Support Pillar
by The Darkness Factor
Summary: Emma won't like it, but right now he's the only one his mom's got.
1. Part I: Henry

**A/N: **Hey all! The finale left me heartbroken, like many of you, so this is my attempt at a fix-it. Unfortunately I doubt it will be as easy as Robin running back to Regina, so here's me take on the aftermath. Involves a little something I like to call protective!Henry. I don't own Once Upon a Time.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Support Pillar**

**Part I: Henry**

The first day is the hardest.

Henry can't remember if he's slept or not. There are moments where he finds himself blinking, clearly having passed out on the couch, but there's so much disorientation that he's not sure what time it is. He knows it isn't healthy, but he needs to be awake because the last thing his mom needs is to be alone right now.

He'd taken her hand in the diner, gently leading her out and away from the family reunion. He'd been able to feel his other mother's eyes on him as they left, but for the first time he didn't care. Emma hardly needs him right now; she has Hook. And Henry really is happy that she's found someone, but all he can remember is the devastation that shattered his mother's face.

"Mom?" he calls.

"In the kitchen," is her answer.

All the breath rushes out of him, because it's the first time she's sounded relatively normal. She'd mostly kept to her bedroom yesterday. Henry's still worried because she never once cried— merely drew her knees up to her chest and stared into space. He hates to think of the thoughts that must have whirled through her head: how maybe happy endings were not for her, or (worse) how much she must hate Emma now. Not that Henry's exactly happy with his other mom, either. He hasn't been answering her calls.

"Whatcha making?" he asks, entering the room.

"Just some eggs," his mom answers. "Want any?"

Henry frowns because it's too soon for her to be doing this— to be the one taking care of _him_. She turns around from where she's been watching the frying pan to smile at him. Thankfully it isn't fake, but it's a far cry from the true, brilliant smiles that she's been giving him lately.

He knows his mom, though. He knows her stubborn pride. He'll buy her mask for now. "Sure."

She nods and turns back to the eggs. Henry watches her hands carefully. They aren't trembling as she cracks them open.

"I've been thinking," he begins. "We should go on vacation."

He's been contemplating this for a few hours now. He and Regina have never gone on vacation before; they're long overdue. Besides which, he can tell that the last place she wants to be is in Storybrooke right now. Emma won't like it, but right now he's the only one his mom's got. She's going to need him with her for the time being, at least until she cries.

He knows that she needs to.

A surprised chuckle escapes her. "Vacation? Miss Swan wouldn't be happy."

They share a glance, which tells him that she's thinking the same thing. Only a day has passed since he was protesting Emma's decision to take him back to New York with her, and now he wants to run away with his other mother. He grins a little bit, wiggling his eyebrows and making her give a more genuine laugh.

"Come on, Mom," he says. "It'll be fun. We could go somewhere tourist-y, just for a few days. Nobody will know us, no crazy magic to deal with—"

He leaves the rest unspoken, but he knows what she's thinking. _No having to watch Robin and Marian being reunited. No having to watch everyone else happy. No having to endure the looks of either pity or contempt._

"Thank you, Henry," his mom sighs. "But we both know that it's just running away again. Like my sister said."

He opens his mouth to protest, but a warning look from his mom shuts it again. Is this some kind of new impulse? Does she believe that she deserves to have to stay here? He wants to tell her that no, she doesn't have to. She doesn't owe any of them anything.

Regina puts their eggs on two plates, handing one to him as she sits next to him at the island. They eat in silence, and it occurs to him that this is her first meal since he'd walked her home. She lacks any enthusiasm, but at least she's eating something. He gets up and pours them glasses of orange juice; she thanks him for hers, giving him another smile.

He's about to broach another topic with her when the doorbell rings.

His mom stands automatically, but he jumps out of his chair. "Don't worry about it, I'll get it."

She looks at him uncertainly, but it's clear that she doesn't really want to talk to anyone else right now. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine. You finish your eggs."

She smirks. "Guess this makes you the mom now."

Henry laughs a bit at that, but his smile fades as he approaches the front door. He has a few ideas about who it could be, and he's not very enthusiastic about any of them.

It's Emma.

"Oh, thank god," she breathes. She reaches out to hug him, but he steps back quickly before she can. He sees the moment that confusion, followed by reluctant understanding, registers, but he can't bring himself to empathize with her. Not now, while his mother is eating eggs and drinking orange juice and probably trying not to collapse from grief and exhaustion (he may have slept, but he knows she didn't).

"You should probably go," he tells her, unable to keep a small amount of coldness from entering his voice.

"Kid, listen—"

"I know you didn't mean to," he manages to bite out. "But right now you're the last person she needs to see."

There's a pained look on her face. "Henry, I just needed to make sure you were okay."

"_I'm_ fine," he says pointedly.

The awkward pause that follows has her cringing, but he lifts his chin and stares her down. He has never felt more like his adoptive mother than in this moment. His warning doesn't stop Emma from trying to peer into the house behind him. She doesn't ask how Regina is doing; his tone implied enough.

"I'm guessing that you're staying here for a few days, huh?"

"You guessed right."

The amount of guilt on Emma's face is almost overwhelming, but every time Henry thinks about maybe letting her in, he remembers Regina staring while she rested her chin on her knees. She hadn't merely looked lost; she'd looked like someone who had completely lost faith in her own happiness. He never, ever wanted that for her, and he's going to do whatever he can to make sure she gets through this. Right now, that means not seeing Emma.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but he cuts her off.

"I'll see you in a few days. Maybe."

Emma nods, reluctantly stepping back. "Okay, kid. Do what you have to."

Henry shuts the door.

* * *

Storybrooke has returned to being relatively normal, after being on high alert from Zelena for a few weeks. Henry receives several smiles and friendly nods as he walks, all of which he returns stiffly. They've run out of groceries, and he's insisted on going out to pick up some more. He knows the way, and he knows how to use his mom's credit card (courtesy of his journey to find Emma two years ago).

He doesn't know where Emma is— probably with his grandparents, or Hook. He notices Belle exit Mr. Gold's shop, beaming as she goes, and slips down an alleyway to avoid her.

Earlier, he suggested that maybe Regina could start talking to Archie again. His mom told him that she'd think about it, but it would be some time before she would be willing to leave the house, let alone interact with other people. He knows that he'll have to drag her out of it eventually because she is hardly going to go willingly, but he'll save that for when the time comes.

He enters the grocery store, not paying much mind to other consumers as he gathers things that they need— milk, more eggs, fruit, carrots, cereal. He mulls it over for a moment before getting two very large tubs of ice cream (he's pretty sure that the stereotype of heartbroken women eating ice cream is overstated, but he thinks that she deserves a treat anyway), and is about to go up to the counter when someone speaks behind him.

"Excuse me?"

He turns and feels his stomach plummeting at the sight before him: Marian, holding a can of Coke and looking completely confused. His eyes automatically search the store for who he knows must also be here, and sure enough Robin Hood is on the other side, browsing for who knows what. Henry turns his attention back to Marian, offering her a small smile. He shouldn't begrudge her; it isn't her fault that she got dragged into this time.

"Hi," he says. "Do you… need help with something?"

"Ah, yes," she answers. "My son told me that I must try one of these drinks, but I… I don't quite understand what I do now…"

Henry almost sighs. "Well, tell your husband to buy it for you, first. I doubt the shopkeeper would be happy if you stole from him."

"Oh, yes, of course," she says, looking guilty. And now he feels even worse for resenting her, because he can see the kind person that she is. Still, a part of him can't help it because she's here and his mom isn't. He nods at her and hefts his bags to bring to the counter, noticing Robin approaching out of the corner of his eye.

He can see the moment Robin Hood recognizes him, and it only makes him walk faster.

"Henry," the man calls, and Henry pauses, not looking at him. "How is—"

"Fine."

Robin looks doubtful, and for a moment Henry wants to shout at him. Of course she isn't fine; her hopes for a second chance were crushed in an instant, and there's no easy way to blame someone else for it. He wants to tell him how afraid he was of leaving Regina alone back in their home because he's still not one-hundred percent sure that she's in the clear yet. He wants to say all of the things that have been bottled up lately on his mom's behalf, and he's sure that some of those things flash in his eyes because Robin flinches.

But he doesn't say any of those things. Because if anyone has a right to rage against the world it's his mom. Not him.

"Nice to see you," he lies. He nods briefly at Marian because marching up to pay for his things.

He doesn't look back once as he leaves the store.

* * *

A few days later, and the next person to visit the house is Tinker Bell.

"If she needs a little more time, I can just—"

And with those words, Henry has a feeling that it's okay to let the fairy in. She smiles at him gratefully before surveying the house, brow furrowing.

"Where is she?"

"Asleep," he tells her. "Finally. She had a rough night. I think she was having nightmares about Daniel. But she finally seems to be having some peace, so it might be a little while until you can talk to her. Do you want anything to drink, or eat?"

"No thank you."

Tink follows him into the sitting room, where he's been mindlessly flipping through television channels for a while now and straining his ears for more cries from his mom. He needs to sleep as well, but his worry prevents him from closing his eyes. He knows he'll crash eventually, but at the moment he can't bring himself to care. He thinks of the guest bedroom, where it looks like a tornado swept through, and feels his heart clench remembering finding his mom there after the trip to the grocery store.

_"I just… needed to let it out."_

"It's not been good, huh?"

He shakes his head. "I think… I think it's less the heartbreak of losing Robin, and more about how she can never seem to be happy. She lost me, remember? And then she found something else good in her life, and everything was great. Fantastic, even. He's a good guy. And I think that Marian, plus the fact that everyone else is blissfully happy… it's a bit too much."

"It's my fault," Tinker Bell claims.

Henry blinks at her. "Not sure how that works. That's another thing— it's not really anyone's fault. My mom's not used to having no one to blame."

"No, it's definitely mine." Tink laughs bitterly. "I pushed her to him. I practically force-fed him down her throat years ago. I don't— if it hadn't been for my interference in her life with him then, would she have taken a chance with him now? I told her it was selfish not to have taken that chance, but I guess that the selfish one was me all along."

"You don't know that," Henry tells her. "My mom wasn't even sure she would exist the next day. She liked Robin. She wanted to take that chance while she still could."

The fairy shakes her head. Neither of them are sure of what to say, instead turning their attention back to the television where Henry has found an old Star Trek episode. Having someone else in the house is comforting, because he knows that he isn't the only one here who cares for Regina, and he finds himself dozing off.

Coming back into consciousness, he discerns low murmurs nearby. Groggily he blinks open his eyes, taking in the view of his mom and Tink talking quietly on the couch across the room from him. His mom doesn't exactly look happy, but she accepts the sudden hug from Tinker Bell nonetheless, slowly wrapping her arms around the fairy. The sight brings a smile to his face, and he's glad to see one on hers as well. It's good that his mom has a friend through all of this.

(She still hasn't cried.)

"We should have some kind of ice cream chick-flick bonanza," Tink proclaims.

Regina chuckles. "My son already covered that, actually. Except instead of chick-flicks, we went with action movies. There's something very satisfying about watching Jason Bourne destroy every car in existence during a chase scene."

"I don't think I've seen that one. I still can't quite get over movies in the first place."

Eventually, Henry knows that his mom will need to open up about this. For now, though, this kind of casual small talk is good. It means that she's at least willing to talk to _someone_, whether it's him or Tinker Bell. He lets out a long breath because he knows it's been more than a few days since Emma confronted him, but he still can't bring himself to leave his mom's side.

(She hasn't cried yet. She needs to cry, at some point.)

This is the woman who raised him, who gave him everything. It's about time he returned the favor.

* * *

"People are going to stare," he says unnecessarily.

Regina snorts. "Really? I had no idea. Weren't you the one who pushed me to get out of the house in the first place?"

Well, that is true. He'd wanted to go for a walk around town, maybe down to the beach, but then both of them got hungry and decided to try and brave Granny's. It's Regina's first time outside in a week, and she'll no longer be able to escape the stares of confusion and pity. She's back in her power clothing now, looking every inch the Mayor of Storybrooke, and he can't say he blames her. It's a look that screams 'stay away', and if he's being honest with himself, well… he's going to be shooting a lot of people warning looks anyway.

Her heels clacking on the floor draw attention almost immediately, and Henry begins doing his job: glaring at everyone who dares to turn to look, laying a hand on his mother's arm and guiding her over to a table in the corner. He slides into the booth across from her, offering what he hopes is a bolstering smile, which she responds to with a mere flicker. There are a couple of the patrons he's been expecting here, but no one major, and he allows his guard to fall ever so slightly.

Ruby comes over to take their order, and for a few moments things almost feel the way they were before everything— Emma, the first curse, the book, doubting his mother's love. He chomps on his fries and watches his mom primly spoon soup into her mouth, and delights in making a joke so that she coughs and splutters and glares at him playfully. His heart soars when he finally manages to get her to throw back her head and laugh—

—which stops dead at the tinkling of the bell.

Henry whips around in his seat, eyes falling on the entrance where the family that he had prayed to avoid has walked in. Marian looks radiant, holding Roland close and laughing at something he says, but Robin freezes in his tracks. It's like he instantly knows where Regina is, his eyes locking onto where she sat. Henry, not so subtly, reaches across the table for his mom's hand, and gives Robin the most pointed glare he can muster.

Robin notices, and is startled enough to look away.

Henry is half-tempted to guide his mother out, the way he did when Marian and Robin were first reunited, but one look at Regina tells him that she's determined to see this through. She finishes her meal looking more composed than he's ever seen her, not even glancing once at the happy family seated not very far away. He emulates her, refusing to look at any of them either, and when the time comes for them to leave the two of them march past without a single backward glance.

It's then that Henry has an idea.

"I'm going to stick around for a bit," he tells her. "You can go home, if you want."

Regina's eyes narrow suspiciously, but she nods. The next breath she takes is shuddering, but then she turns away and is headed along the sidewalk. Henry hears someone call her name and sees Mary Margaret running to catch up with her, but he decides not to get involved in that particular confrontation.

He goes back inside the diner, walks up to Robin's table, and says, "May I speak to you both privately for a moment?"

Because Marian is a good woman, and she deserves to know the truth as well.

She looks confused at the request, but Robin looks resigned.

They go into the backroom of the diner, where he has them sit down like children to be chastised. Well, it's more Robin that he wants to chastise, but Henry reminds himself to be civil about this. Regina won't thank him if he starts a fight.

"Obviously I can't ask you to stay out of sight of my mom," he says without preamble. "But I think you ought to know how hard it is for her."

"The Evil Queen?" Marian asks.

Before he can stop himself, the outburst escapes him: "She's _not_ evil!"

Marian's look hardens a bit, but Henry draws himself up to full height. He needs to make himself clear.

"She _isn't_," he repeats firmly. "The Evil Queen wouldn't have given me up so that I could have a better life. The Evil Queen wouldn't have tried to sacrifice her life to save this entire town. The Evil Queen wouldn't have been able to conjure light magic in order to defeat the Wicked Witch of the West. _Regina_— my mom— did all those things. And Regina doesn't deserve to be in pain every time she sees all of you."

Quietly, Robin asks, "What do you want us to do?"

Meanwhile, understanding begins to dawn on Marian's face. She turns to Robin, her expression shocked, but before she can ask, Henry answers Robin's question.

"Don't talk to her," he instructs. "Don't ever try to contact her. I can't make it so that she never has to see you again, but I can try and minimize that contact. She's my mom. She's taken care of me my whole life, even when I didn't realize it. So this is me, taking care of her: what she needs right now is space. Time to figure out what she's going to do now. You're going to give it to her."

"I'm sorry, Henry," Robin says.

He knows that. He knows that none of this is the outlaw's fault— what was he supposed to do upon meeting his dead wife again? Just tell her sorry, but he's in another relationship now? Henry doesn't even want to know what it would be like, but all he's concerned for is Regina. Emma, his grandparents— they all feel so far away right now, like a dream.

"Yeah," he answers. "Okay. But it's not just gonna erase her pain."

"I know."

He leaves then, because he can tell that Marian needs to process the information and that she and Robin will have to sort this out. He walks home in a daze, not really sure what he just did. He stumbles in through the front door to find his mom waiting for him, sitting forlornly on the couch.

"I…" she starts, swallowing heavily. "Henry, I…"

"Yeah, Mom?"

The next thing to escape her mouth isn't a word. It's a sob, and then he's rushing to her and letting her cling to him when the tears finally, finally come.


	2. Part II: Mary Margaret

**A/N: **Well, I had ideas about where to go with this story, anyway. Thank you all for the rousing response from Part I! Here's Part II, this time featuring Mary Margaret. Part III is pending.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Support Pillar**

**Part II: Mary Margaret**

"Emma?"

Mary Margaret can't keep the confused note out of her voice. She's just watched Henry guide a shell-shocked looking Regina out of the diner, while her daughter stands as though frozen to the floor. There aren't many times when Emma looks this stricken with guilt and horror, but her motherly instinct rears its head. Her daughter should not look like that, not on this day of celebration.

Emma whispers something that Mary Margaret strains to make out. Eventually, what she picks up on is, "I didn't know…"

Mary Margaret looks at her, then at the joyous family reunion taking place next to them. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. She looks back at the diner entrance, seeing two heads bobbing away through the window, and her heart breaks.

_Oh, Regina._

Like a zombie, Emma walks over to her and David. "I did this," she tells them. There are no words for the guilt in her voice. "How do I fix it? How do you fix something like _this_?"

David instinctively goes over to comfort his daughter, but Mary Margaret can't give her an answer. Instead, she feels the old horrified realization wash over her, the way she felt after she discovered Daniel's fate. There is a moment when she is tempted to spring up and run after Regina and Henry, but her arms are full of Neal and she can't bring herself to leave David or Emma right now. She feels her throat close up a bit, but she pushes down that feeling. She has no right to cry at this moment.

"She trusted me," Emma says. Hook approaches them, the distraught look on Emma's face not going unnoticed by him. "We… I think we were even friends. A bit. She _trusted_ me."

"Don't apologize for saving someone's life, Emma," David tells her. "Never apologize for that."

"I know." Emma gives a shaky sigh. "I'm not apologizing for that. But Regina… I mean, you have been seeing her lately, right? God, she was smiling so much I almost thought it was scary."

"Emma? Is everything alright?"

The Charmings tense as one, each turning with wary looks to Marian, who has approached Emma. Mary Margaret sees just how confused she is by the unhappy looks on all of their faces, but how can they be happy when one of their family members is hurting?

Regina _is_ part of their family.

Emma plasters a huge fake smile onto her face. "Everything's fine."

"Where did the queen go?" Marian asks, frowning. "I thought you wanted me to meet her."

Mary Margaret can see the moment when it hits Robin, like a sucker punch. She sees when he realizes just what he's just missed— that he's missed Regina's crumbling expression, and how her son led her away from the celebrations, and how the rest of them are scrambling for a way to pick up the pieces. She sees the moment when his brilliant grin falls and his face becomes the same way the rest of theirs does. Mary Margaret looks away from him, letting him have privacy in his moment of conflict, because she can tell that (happy as he is to be reunited with his wife), a part of him wants to go after Regina.

But he won't. He's an honorable man. He's not going to be able to be there for her.

Mary Margaret makes the decision to try to be there for her instead.

* * *

It's not until a week later that she finally gets the chance.

She's walking down the street, having left Emma to take care of Neal for a while, when she spies Regina and Henry exiting the diner. She feels a rush of determination, noticing that Henry goes back inside while Regina walks quickly down the street. Mary Margaret recognizes the clothes— the ones that say 'Madame Mayor', but they do not deter her.

"Regina!"

The other woman pauses, and to Mary Margaret's immense relief slows down slightly to allow her to catch up. She smiles as she falls into step beside her, glad to see Regina out and about again. Henry's done a good job of taking care of her.

"How's your son?" Regina asks, before Mary Margaret can say anything.

"He's doing great. Cries a lot, but then that's perfectly normal."

Mary Margaret sneaks a glance at Regina. Now that she's able to get a closer look, she can see that all is not well for her. There are shadows beneath her eyes that speak of sleepless nights, and her skin is pale from being indoors for too long. She isn't sure of what to say to her, because she knows Regina; any comforting words will probably be met with scorn, and trying to bluntly broach the subject will result in open hostility. These are the ways that Regina has always defended herself from pain.

Instead, she asks, "Would you be willing to come by and see him, sometime?"

Regina truly looks startled by the question. "You… want me to?"

"I want Neal to have the chance to get to know _all_ of his family," Mary Margaret says firmly.

The look that Regina gives her speaks volumes. There's skepticism there, but there's also a pained sort of longing. Mary Margaret knows just how much she craves a family. All she wants is for Regina to see that she already has one. She takes one of Regina's hands in both of her own, like she did the night she encouraged Regina to let go of what was holding her back. She realizes that she's partially responsible for Regina's pain once again, but it only makes her more determined.

"Please," she asks. "Come over tomorrow? No one else will be there, if you're not ready."

Mary Margaret can see the struggle taking place. The temptation for the old Regina to emerge is strong— to spite her offer and shield herself from the world, slamming her walls back into place. Maybe she wouldn't go back to being the Evil Queen, but she would be the bad-tempered woman at the beginning of their Neverland trip. But then there's the side of her that fights back against that, who craves connection with _someone_ now that she's lost a connection with someone else.

"All right," she agrees. There's a crack in her façade for a moment, and Mary Margaret realizes that what's about to happen is not for her to see. "I need to… get home."

"Right. I won't keep you. One o' clock tomorrow?"

"I'll be there."

* * *

Regina's a few minutes late, but Mary Margaret's just relieved that she showed up at all. Henry isn't with her this time; upon questioning her about it, Regina explains that she told him to go and stay with Emma. The look on her face tells Mary Margaret that she had been reluctant to do so, but she claims, "She's his mother as much as I am, now. He shouldn't be away from her this long."

Neal's going to need to be put down for a nap in about thirty minutes, but for now Mary Margaret seats Regina down on the couch and passes him to her, watching and feeling both pride and joy swelling through her as Regina's face transforms. The smile on her face isn't quite what it is when she looks at Henry, but it is completely genuine, and she coos softly at the baby while Mary Margaret goes to clean up yet another towel that she used to burp him with. She can't quite describe the love she feels upon seeing her son charm everyone he meets, but it is especially strong when looking at Regina holding him. Maybe it's because she's seeing the side that she was never allowed to see as a child: the true mother.

"He's certainly a little charmer, isn't he?" asks Regina dryly, but the smile remains. "Must run in the family, though I'm not sure I can say the same for your daughter."

And there is it; Snow sighs, about to speak, but Regina continues before she can.

"No, I know. She was saving a life. Perfectly understandable, from someone like her. She is the _Savior_, after all."

Mary Margaret once again feels a bit helpless. "She wants so badly to fix it, somehow—"

"But she can't." Regina continues to gaze down at baby Neal. "There's no way to fix it. And as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to fix."

Snow blinks in surprise. Of all the things that she expected Regina to say on the subject, that wasn't one of them. Regina has always been a fighter. She has always been someone who claws, snarls and rages against the fate set forward for her. She fought tooth and nail to get to where she is now— someone with lightness and good in her heart, interspersed with the darkness. She has never been one to meekly submit to anything.

"He has his wife again." Her tone softens, but the bitterness is still there. "His second chance at love. His family is back together— Marian," and she swallows visibly, as though the name physically pains her, "can get to know her son, as any mother should be able to. I'm not going to get in the way of their lives, for Roland's sake at the very least."

Regina might be putting forth her indifferent persona, but Mary Margaret knows her well enough to see right through her.

"You know, it's okay to be hurt about this," she says.

"Is it?" Regina laughs darkly.

Mary Margaret isn't having any of that. She's not about to watch Regina regress back into the hard, bitter woman who spent the entirety of their year in the Enchanted Forest either sniping at everyone around her or holing herself up in her chambers, avoiding company while she grieved for Henry. They've come too far for that, the two of them, and she'll do whatever she has to in order to get Regina to see that she's not going to be alone. Regina herself might say that Mary Margaret's thoughts were idiotic, but she doesn't care.

So she places her hand over Regina's, where it rests on Neal's blanket, and says, "Yes, it is."

There's a moment when Regina holds her gaze, clearly conflicted. Then it clears, and her wry expression is back. It reminds Mary Margaret of the one that she was wearing after she saved her from Cora's ghost, when the two of them had their talk at the table and she encouraged Regina to let go of her doubt. It is then that Mary Margaret realizes that she isn't going to get through to Regina today. Maybe Regina will feel hurt about it (maybe she already has), but Mary Margaret is never going to see it. That's not to say she's failed completely— Regina's showing her _something_, even if it isn't pain.

And that's fine, so long as someone does see it, and help her through it. Given their history, she doesn't expect Regina to open up to her any more than she already has. She flickers a brief smile, and the two settle into a more mundane conversation about the goings-on in town— how she's still trying to find someone to substitute for her at the school, how Regina is planning on getting back to work as the mayor tomorrow, and how people are settling down after Zelena's demise. Regina helps her put Neal down for his nap, and Mary Margaret marvels at how easy she makes it look.

After showing Regina to the door, she says, "If you ever need anything—"

"I will most likely _not_ come to you. Sorry, but I have little desire to encounter your firstborn at the moment."

Mary Margaret nods. That particular meeting will happen when both parties are ready. Considering that Regina's face still twists at the mention of Emma and Emma cringes whenever the topic is brought up, she's going to say that neither of them are. She watches Regina's retreating back for a few seconds before shutting the door, suddenly feeling exhausted.

And this time, it has nothing to do with the baby.

* * *

Henry doesn't say much on the subject when Emma brings him over for dinner the next day. He's staying with her again, and he seems more comfortable around her now, so Mary Margaret hopes that the two have spoken about the situation. Emma manages to sneak in a question about how Regina was doing when she visited the previous day, to which Mary Margaret replies, "About as well as can be expected."

David shrugs. "She called me today about repairing the clock tower. She sounded like her old self. Not, you know, Enchanted Forest-old, but normal."

"Mom's good at that," Henry mumbles, not looking up from his pasta.

They all pause conversation awkwardly, not knowing where to look. Mary Margaret's thinking about how, a week ago, Regina might have been here with them— enjoying dinner and the time with Henry, and maybe even the company that the rest of them offered. She never realized just how much she enjoyed seeing Regina so radiantly _happy_ until her walls came back down with a resounding 'boom'.

Emma stands suddenly, muttering about needing to use the bathroom. Hook watches her go with a knowing look in his eye, but he doesn't get up to follow her, understanding that she needs space this time.

"Oh!" Mary Margaret exclaims, also getting up and hurrying over to the counter. "Henry, you were going to go check up on Regina again after dinner, right?"

"Yeah."

She hands him a bouquet of flowers. "Could you give these to her? She'll understand."

He looks confused, but he doesn't question her as he takes them.

* * *

She's a bit surprised when she receives a text from Regina:

_Snowbells? Really?_

At first, she isn't sure what this response means, but the next one makes things clear.

_How charming._

She laughs.


	3. Part III: David

**A/N: **Whew, here's part three! Sorry for the long wait; I just got a job, and I usually get home feeling exhausted; there isn't much motivation to write. Plus, this chapter was harder than I expected. David's headspace is difficult for me to get into, so hopefully I did an acceptable job. Enjoy!

I don't own Once Upon a Time.

* * *

**Support Pillar**

**Part III: David**

"It almost seems more poetic to leave it broken, doesn't it?"

Regina stares out over the streets of Storybrooke, heedless of the glass shards beneath her heels and of the cool breeze on her face. David approaches cautiously as the remains of the clock face crunch under his feet, not sure what she means by that. She called him here to discuss plans to repair it, but her mind seems to be in a faraway place today.

"A scar on the face of our proud little town," she murmurs. "The day the Evil Queen was defeated."

He stands next to her, observing the people of Storybrooke going about their day, oblivious to the two of them watching. David hasn't really gotten the chance to speak with Regina since the incident at the diner (he doesn't count one phone call); a part of him is relieved by that, while another part is uneasy. He's never been quite sure how to handle her. When Mary Margaret and Emma were taken to the Enchanted Forest and he and Regina had been forced to work together, she had surprised him on multiple occasions.

"That wasn't exactly what I'd call a 'joyous moment'," he comments. He still remembers helping her to her feet, watching her face twist into a bitter expression as she stared after her sister.

"It never is. When you win, and you think you should be happy but all you taste is ash."

He nods. She's not talking about her fight with Zelena anymore. There had been a certain grim satisfaction when he and Snow finally managed to trap the Evil Queen in the Enchanted Forest, but there had been no happiness in their decision to either kill her or banish her— both times, they were left unsettled by it. Regina has taken longer to learn that lesson, but learn it she did, and in the worst possible way. She still isn't fine, in spite of her return to her usual routine. The fact that she didn't immediately start with business at their meeting is an indicator of that.

"It's not safe to leave it like this," he points out.

She shakes her head. "I know. I'll be sure to set aside some funding to cover the damages, and get a contractor working on it. I might even start throwing a little money towards road repair." Here she shoots him an irritated look, and he chuckles.

"Those potholes are monstrous," he says, nudging her.

"Be that as it may, I still disapprove."

"Noted." He smirks at her, getting an eye roll in response.

He follows her down the stairs into the library and outside. The sky is overcast today. Regina blends in with the weather easily, her grey mood suiting it well. David doesn't have anything urgent to do at the Sheriff's station right now, so he walks her back to the mayor's office. They remain silent as they go— neither of them are really the talkative sort, and he wants to be patient with her.

They all have to be patient. She'll get through this, because it's Regina and she always stamps down heartbreak. She probably won't be willing to open up as much ever again, which is a shame, but she'll still survive this.

"We're a bit behind on some reports," he informs her. "I'll try to get them to you as soon as possible."

They both know that it's Emma's job to do that, but then again both of them know that she isn't someone Regina wants to see. She nods at him, closing her eyes briefly and letting out a long breath as though trying to expel her grief like it's a poisonous gas. He can almost feel the moment she goes rigid as a board, preparing herself to get back to her duties as mayor. She looks nigh unapproachable, but though David is not as close to her as her son or even Snow, he still has the right to speak to her when she's like this.

"Can I get you anything?" he asks. "I was about to go grab some lunch; I can pick something up for you, or…"

"No," she answers, voice nearing sharpness. "…thank you," she adds more stiffly, inclining her head.

David shrugs. "Okay, well… I'll get those reports to you soon."

"If I'm not in, you can just leave them on my desk."

She doesn't give a reason for why she might not be in her office, and he doesn't ask.

* * *

Granny's has all of its usual patrons when David enters it. There's a fog that has rolled through town this morning, making it nearly impossible to see more than ten feet in front of him. Driving isn't really an option, but there's something unsettling about walking through town on a day like this. David had asked Mary Margaret if she wanted to walk to the diner with him, but with the weather like this, he can't really blame her for declining.

He orders coffees for himself and Emma before he spots a familiar face sitting at one of the booths— alone.

David isn't usually one to fall victim to curiosity, but he can remember a time when this particular man listened to his troubles and gave him advice in the Enchanted Forest. It's only fair that he returns the favor.

"Morning, Robin," he says as he approaches.

Robin starts, glancing up at him. "Ah. Good morning. Apologies for my lack of diligence, I—"

"You were a little lost in thought, there," David finishes for him.

Robin smiles slightly, but soon goes back to staring down at his own coffee. If David hadn't known any better, he'd say that Robin wasn't sure what coffee was. That can't be the case, though, because the former outlaw has been in Storybrooke long enough to gain an appreciation for caffeinated brew. In fact, he's almost one-hundred percent sure that Regina was the one who introduced him to it.

"Do you mind if I…?" David gestures at the seat across from Robin, who shakes his head. He sits, giving Robin a knowing look.

Robin, as it turns out, doesn't need any prompting.

"I know, I should probably be with Marian and Roland," Robin admits. "But today, I think I needed some time to myself. To think."

David smiles. "Well, I'm pretty sure if you ask Ruby she'll take pity on you and add something a bit stronger to your coffee."

"Probably not the best idea at the moment."

Robin pauses, fidgeting slightly. He's tugging on the end of one of his sleeves, a nervous tick that David hasn't noticed before. He catches a glimpse of something dark on the other man's wrist and deduces that he probably has some kind of tattoo— though wracking his brains to figure out _what_ it's a tattoo of produces no results. All he can do is patiently wait for Robin to continue.

"It's all been a bit surreal for me," the outlaw says. "Having Marian back, looking exactly the same as she did back then. Like nothing's changed. Except everything has."

"Have you talked to her?"

They both know which 'her' David is referring to, and it isn't Marian.

Robin shakes his head. "Henry confronted me several days ago. He's of the opinion that it's for the best if I stay away from Regina for the moment, and I can't bring myself to disagree with him. Seeing me only seems to bring her pain."

"Maybe." David nods his thanks to Ruby when she brings him his order, but he makes no move to stand. "Look, I know Regina. I got saddled with her for days when Mary Margaret and Emma were trapped in the Enchanted Forest. Most of the time there was the usual when dealing with her— blatant distrust, arguments. But… there was a moment when I got to see past that. The circumstances were a bit unreal, but it happened."

Robin glances up at him, curiosity on his face. For a moment, David is tempted to tell him outright, but instead he says, "Regina should be the one to tell you. When she's ready to talk to you, ask her about what Dr. Whale did. Anyway, my point is that I know her, and Regina doesn't let anything keep her down for long. At the same time, that just means that it's going to be almost impossible to get her to open up again. So, at some point, no matter how hard it seems, you're going to have to talk to her."

Robin looks back down at that, continuing to fiddle with his wrist.

David bids him goodbye, knowing that he should at least get the coffees to the station before they get cold. Emma had looked fit to murder if she didn't get caffeine that morning, and no one wants a sheriff who will commit crimes instead of stopping them. Robin murmurs an acknowledgement in return, already lost in his thoughts once more.

* * *

"Mmrph," Emma mumbles, barely lifting her head when David places the cup next to her.

"I told you that you should've gotten some sleep instead of staying up all night doing paperwork," he tells her.

His daughter briefly lifts her head to glare at him.

"Have you been avoiding Hook?"

"Don't act like you haven't noticed," Emma mutters in reply. "I've been avoiding everyone."

David _has_ noticed, but he hasn't said anything. Oddly enough, Emma's a lot like Regina when it comes to something bothering her; she avoids discussing it, and she avoids people who she thinks might want to discuss it with her. The difference is that Emma doesn't deflect concern with poisonous barbs and armor around her heart; she merely brushes it off or changes the subject abruptly. He wonders if Hook has tried to push the subject of Regina with her and briefly feels anger, but he tries to remind himself that the pirate probably just wants to help her.

"You figured things out with Henry, right?" he asks her.

"Yeah." Her soft smile at that is a true one. "But that's Henry, and he always seems to just _know_, you know? Everyone else is… they look at me, and they don't know what to do but they want to help me anyway. And I don't want that. I need to be able to figure this one out on my own."

"Well, if you ever do decide that you need any help, you know who to ask."

"Honestly, Dad," Emma says, "you did plenty just by bringing me coffee."

_Dad._ He can still never quite get over the thrill he feels when Emma calls him that. It's a recent occurrence, and he remembers the joy on Mary Margaret's face that must have mirrored his own when it first happened back in the diner.

Before everything became a giant mess, anyway.

They spend the morning cleaning up and organizing the Sheriff's station to the best of their ability. There are scattered papers left over from a time before Pan's curse came into play, and Emma hasn't had much time to come here since she and Henry arrived from New York. The conversation between them is light; Emma asks questions about Neal, eager to learn more about her younger brother, and David tries to (subtly) ask her about her relationship with Hook. Judging by the look that Emma keeps giving him when he brings up the subject, he's not fooling her.

At noon, Hook walks into the station, dressed in his usual attire, and holds up a greasy looking bag.

"Trying to bribe me now?" Emma asks, but she's eyeing the bag hungrily.

"I seem to recall you once telling me that the fries at Granny's were to die for," Hook answers. "So yes, I may be bribing you a bit. Think of it as a peace offering."

Emma snatches the bag away from him the moment he nears her, and then shoots her father a not-so-subtle look. Understanding that his daughter is willing to let Hook talk to her (and that it's going to be a private conversation), David merely nods and says, "I should get these to Regina. I told her I'd deliver them ASAP."

He exits, though not before giving Hook a warning, don't-hurt-my-daughter-or-else look which the pirate returns levelly. David can hear them talking to each other in low voices almost the instant that he leaves the room, and really hopes that they're having a serious conversation rather than flirting with each other.

He calls Snow on the way in order to alleviate the constant worry he feels about his wife and his child. She sounds stressed on the phone, though that might have more to do with the fact that Neal is giggling in the background and Mary Margaret mutters something about, "dribbling everywhere" before she tells him in a strained voice that she can't talk long. She does seem to relax as they converse, and he can't stop smiling after she tells him that Neal sends his love.

Regina looks up from her work the moment he enters and groans.

"Stop smiling," she orders.

He doesn't. "Why?"

Snow chooses that moment to send him a picture of Neal, beaming at the camera while attempting to shove a fistful of her shirt into his mouth. His smile widens even further.

Regina slumps in her seat, and once again she shows him the side of her that she normally refuses to let him see. It's the same vulnerable look that he remembers her sometimes having when Emma and Henry would hug, or when they would be walking together or even just talking together. It's the deadened look that he saw back before the curse was broken, when she had invited him for dinner and he changed his mind and stayed. In no way does he regret stopping her from kissing him, but he does think that a part of her genuinely wanted a friend.

Maybe that's what she needs now. A friend. Or maybe she doesn't realize that she already has one.

"You have that look."

"What look?" David asks. He can feel his smile slipping away, as though her dejection is seeping into him.

"The one that all new parents get. They're exhausted and they feel half-dead, but they couldn't be happier. When your adoration for them practically takes over everything you know, and nothing can ever break the little bubble you're in." She smirks at him when he blinks. "Don't look so shocked, Charming; I've been there."

"I know, Regina."

She flinches slightly at his soft tone.

"If you're going to give me the 'it's okay to show my feelings talk', don't bother," she says, voice hard. "Your wife already tried that."

"Okay." He moves forward and places the reports on her desk. She looks almost surprised that he doesn't protest. That surprise turns to annoyance when he adds, "But we are going to keep checking up on you. And offering help. And trying to get you to come to family dinners and, you know, interact with other human beings."

She glares at him, but he became immune to it a long time ago.

"Like it or not, you're stuck with us," he adds.

"Pardon me for _not_ appreciating it."

David studies her. "I think you do, and you just don't want to admit it. Look, Regina— we care about you, as hard as it is for you to believe. And it's not just for Henry's sake, either."

The look that she gives him isn't quite disbelief— she's well aware of her deepening friendship with Snow, especially after the incident with Cora's spirit. But today (especially after watching her happy ending be torn away from her yet again) the majority of her believes that she is unworthy of any kind of positive emotion directed from anyone else to her. In spite of that, he smiles back at her.

"It's almost lunchtime," he says. "Want me to get you something?"

It takes her a moment, but eventually she answers, "Preferably something with fries."


	4. Part IV: Henry II

**A/N: **Got this one out a little bit faster this time. More Henry in this chapter (but he's going to be the only one with two chapters). Also, in case anyone was wondering, I'm not really going to get into Elsa in this fic; it's more introspective than plot-related. As for the Regina-killing-Marian thing, that will be explored in a later chapter. Enjoy!

I don't own Once Upon a Time.

* * *

**Support Pillar**

**Part IV: Henry II**

Her façade is useless against him, no matter how much she tries to lay it on. She thinks that he doesn't notice the way the corners of her mouth tremble slightly when she smiles, or the way that her fists clench whenever she sees the Hood family, or how she paces in her room at two in the morning (he knows he should be sleeping then, but he was really only awake for a few minutes before falling back into oblivion).

So he's more than a little reluctant when she tells him to go stay with Emma for a bit.

"I've never liked to admit it," she says drily, "but she's your mother as well. She loves you very much, and of all people I certainly know how it feels to be separated from your child. The two of you need to talk, anyway."

She's right; he knows that. But a part of him is selfish and wants to stay with her, because this past week has reminded him of what things used to be like before Emma. And deep down, no matter how happy he is to be a part of the Charming family, a part of him _misses_ those days— when everything was so much simpler, and it was only him and Regina.

But then he remembers the flipside of that time: how the house always seemed too big, how his mom sometimes frightened him when she was hissing threats at other people, and how he could never seem to make friends with many people his own age. He had tried; he'd even invited kids over a couple of times, but each time they seemed to be inexplicably nervous. He'd never understood it— not until Mary Margaret had given him the book.

"Fine," he says. "I'll stay with her for a few days. But I'm going to come back and stay with you again after that, okay?"

Regina smiles. "Of course. You're always welcome here, Henry."

She gives him one last hug before he goes out the door, and he hugs her back just as tightly. The year in New York feels like an eternity, especially now that he's remembered her. He does love Emma, but loving one person isn't necessarily enough to make up for missing another. Especially not when they're two different people.

Henry gives his mom a serious look. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

She looks like she's going to argue for a moment, but a rueful smile appears instead. "I won't try to convince you that that won't be necessary. It's the same for you, understand?"

"Yeah." He pauses at the door, smiling at her. "Bye, Mom."

"Goodbye."

Her expression doesn't falter as he shuts the door, but he can just imagine herself closing her eyes and sighing after he leaves. Still, she's been getting better these past few days; he has to believe that she's well enough to be on her own again. He'll only be away for a little while, and he's going to be checking up on her in the meantime anyway. He probably doesn't have anything to worry about.

Not that worrying was ever a choice.

After he knocks on the door of Emma's temporary residence and she opens it, she makes a weird little lunging movement before restraining herself, coughing slightly. "Uh, Henry. Come in."

"Hey," he says. "Mom told me to stay here for a bit."

"Yeah! Sure. Great." But it doesn't sound great to her; instead, she sounds anxious— like she's about five seconds away from wringing her hands in front of her. The guilt is back, plastered all over her face, and he almost winces to see it because he knows instantly what it means. Never let it be said that Henry didn't know both of his moms very well.

"Come on," he says, taking her hand and pulling her into the sitting room. Emma relaxes slightly at his touch, the little smile that she seems to reserve for him appearing on her face. They really need to talk, he realizes, and sort out whatever's going on between them. No matter what he tries to tell himself, a part of him blames her for it, and he knows that it isn't fair. Yes, there are always consequences when messing with time travel, but at the same time he knows that Emma could never just leave someone to die.

"How's Regina?" she asks cautiously.

Unlike with Robin at the store a few days earlier, Henry's a bit more honest this time. "Not that great. She'll talk to me, but she's mostly back to her old self with everyone else." He pauses, thinking about Mary Margaret. "Okay, maybe not quite everyone… but for the most part she's miserable. I can tell."

"I'm guessing that she doesn't want to see me."

"She hasn't really said, but probably not."

Emma closes her eyes and lets out a sigh of frustration. Henry's about to rebuke her (because what does she expect from his mom, after she's had her heart broken?) when he realizes that it isn't Regina she's frustrated with— it's herself.

"Mom?" he asks cautiously. "Where's Killian?"

She blinks in surprise at his seemingly random change of subject. "Huh? Um… talking to Smee about getting a new boat, I think. Without stealing one, this time. Why?"

That isn't that unusual, really. He knows from talking to Killian that the former pirate misses being out on the water (though hopefully he uses it for less nefarious purposes), and would like to get back to sailing sometime. His suspicion fades; most likely Emma and Killian will meet for dinner, or something, and he will get to analyze their relationship. He likes Killian, but he wants to make sure that this guy is right for her.

But he's getting off track.

"I told Robin to stay away from her for now," he explains.

"Yeah?" Emma frowns. "You know that they'll probably have to talk to each other eventually, right?"

Henry knows that they will, for his mom's sake if nothing else.

"You're trying to figure out how to talk to her," he observes. "But you want to do it the right way."

Emma gives him a rueful smile. "I should've known you'd figure me out. You're the only one who could."

"It's just because I know you," Henry says. "And I know that you're trying to work up the courage to go straight to her and talk to her about it. But I don't think it's really about what she might say or do to _you_ that you're afraid of. I think it's seeing what Marian being here has done to her that scares you."

For a moment, a fleeting look of panic crosses Emma's face, followed by resignation. "Right again, kid. You've really got to stop that."

"What can I say? I'm perceptive," he says jokingly, but he quickly schools his expression back into something more serious. "Really though, it'll be better than sitting around wondering what _might_ happen if you go talk to her. You guys were in a good place before all of this happened. I don't like to see you fighting."

"Henry, it's—"

"Not that easy?" He squeezes her hand a bit. "Sometimes it is. But that's up to you."

Without warning, Emma lunges forward and wraps her arms around him. The hug surprises him slightly, but he reciprocates with a smile, letting her squeeze the life out of him for a moment or two. He's missed her, and he knows that she's going to try to do the right thing. This is what it means to be family— sometimes you have to be patient with the ones you love. He thinks he might feel something wet drip onto his shoulder, but she quickly scrubs at her face after pulling away, clearly not wanting him to see.

He'll pretend that he didn't.

"So you are gonna talk to her, then?" he asks hopefully.

"Yeah. Of course." She snorts. "It's about time I got off my butt, anyway. That's not really like me anyway, is it?"

"Considering that only a few days after you arrived in Storybrooke you attacked my mom's tree with a chainsaw… no, it's not."

They share a laugh at this, and then she's up and insisting that they go out for a while, so he obliges her.

* * *

After Regina puts the flowers from Snow in a vase, he raises an eyebrow. "Is there something I'm missing?"

"What?" Regina looks from him to the flowers, before rolling her eyes. "Nothing. It's a little joke between us. And a reminder, I suppose."

Though he's curious, Henry doesn't push.

He hadn't been able to help noticing just how quiet it was when he entered the house a few minutes ago. He hasn't found any more messes like the one she made with her magic, but that doesn't stop the clenching in his gut when he thinks of her alone, in a house that's always been too large for her (a veritable castle, in tiny Storybrooke). Silently, he slips into a chair at the kitchen island, watching as she makes hot cocoa for him.

"So… what now?" he asks. She doesn't need to ask what he means.

Regina turns away from the microwave, frowning. "I don't know," she says at last. "Returning to mayoral duties was easy. People have gone back to avoiding me. I'm not going to lie and say that I've been enjoying it, but… the peace and quiet is welcome."

There's more to it, he can tell.

"Remember what you said about going on vacation?" she starts hesitantly.

"Yeah." He perks up a bit. "Why? Do you want to?"

"Not… exactly." Regina pushes a hand through her hair, a move that he recognizes as one for when she's nervous. "I'm thinking a little more long term than a vacation. Maybe it's time to get out of Maine. There's a lot of the world out there; maybe I can find my place in it."

_Oh._

Simultaneously, Henry's heart leaps and breaks. Leaps, because he wants his mom to be happy. Breaks, because she clearly intends for him to stay in Storybrooke with Emma and the Charmings and the rest of their family. He swallows down the protests, the hurt; it's unreasonable because he knows just how much she loves him, and the modern world has Skype and an untold number of other ways to communicate across long distances. But it won't be the same, and the selfish part of him doesn't want her to leave him.

His eyes find hers, and he sees terror in them— terror that he will hate her for wanting this, or that he'll condemn her and say exactly what she herself said only a week ago: that she's running away. She is afraid that her decision will cause him to reject her as so many others have done, and it makes all of the sadness he felt about the possibility of her moving away all but vanish. She deserves this. She deserves to go out there and find her happy ending.

"Where were you thinking of going?" he asks.

She's never looked more relieved. "Maybe Europe? I was thinking about places in the tropics, but that just reminded me of Neverland. Or one of the big cities— New York or Chicago. I could go visit the Grand Canyon; I've heard it's a must."

"Oh, come on!" Henry protests. "You have to take me with you for that one."

She laughs. "Okay, okay. If I ever go see the Grand Canyon, you'll be the first to know."

They settle into a comfortable discussion about places for Regina to visit, or possibly live. She finds the idea of Paris intriguing, doesn't say no to London, and knows from Henry's own experiences that New York is pretty great. They also talk about Australia, mostly because the two of them used to watch The Crocodile Hunter together when he was little.

"I haven't made a final decision yet," she admits, when it's nearing time for him to go (he has to remind himself that he's only checking up on her; he's not staying with her again until a few days from now). "I don't know if I'd really go through with it. But I needed something to look forward to aside from endless days of… nothing."

"I get it," he says. He gets his coat, glancing at the snowbells one last time before looking back at her. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

* * *

"You're Henry, right?"

He's sitting at the docks, watching the waves lap lazily at the shore and enjoying the warm breeze that ruffles his hair. Surprised, he looks up at the woman who has approached him cautiously. She looks strange in modern day clothing, and her hair is up in a ponytail, which looks even stranger. Still, something about the ensemble suits her.

"Yeah," he says to Marian. "Why?"

"May I?" She gestures to a spot on the dock next to him. He shrugs and gives a 'go ahead' gesture, so she sits.

"I never got to thank you for your help at the store," she says.

"It was nothing."

"Um… right." He has a feeling that she doesn't quite believe him. "Anyway, that's not why I want to talk to you. I was told that you were the one to speak to."

"About my mom?"

"Yes." She looks extremely uncomfortable, and he has a feeling that she's remembering his response to her calling Regina the Evil Queen at the diner. "Robin explained his relationship with her to me after you spoke with us last week. He told me that you're her son, and that you understood her better than anyone— even him. 'Especially me'; those were his words."

"So what did you want to ask me?"

"Nothing really." The corner of her mouth turns upwards as she turns to look at him, appraising him gently. "I just needed to see. Thank you, Henry, for letting me."

And with that, she gets up and walks away.

* * *

It's almost terrifying.

One week after Marian came to see him, Henry walks into his mother's office to find both of his moms standing five feet away from each other. The tension in the air could be sliced with a knife, and he feels for a moment as though he is about to step on a live wire. Regina's face is completely blank as she regards Emma, but Emma is almost shaking. He doesn't say anything, because neither of them appear to notice that he's here.

"I— I'm sorry," Emma finally stammers. "I'm _sorry. _I'm sorry, Regina, but there's nothing I can do for cripes' sake— what do I do? Tell me what to do!"

Regina's lips curl into a silent snarl, but she quickly wipes away the dangerous look in favor of her poker face. "I don't know Miss Swan. Maybe the thing to do, in this case, would be to get back to your _job._ I'm quite certain that you work at the sheriff's station, not the mayor's office."

Emma huffs in frustration, jabbing a finger at Regina. "I am not giving up on this. I'll be back."

"I'm sure you will," Regina sneers. "Just like your entire insufferable family will be, to plague me until the day I die. _Good day_, Miss Swan— or would you rather continue this in front of our son?"

Emma jumps, clearly startled, turning to see Henry watching the two of them. "Hey, kid," she says weakly, glancing from him to Regina like a deer caught in the headlights. "I'll, um… just get going, then."

"Bye, Mom," Henry says to her as she passes him, and he gives her a tiny nod as she goes. He then turns to Regina and says, "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, Henry," she sighs, sitting in her chair behind her desk with a thud. "I'm sorry you had to see that little chat."

"It's okay. I think it's good that you guys are talking to each other."  
Regina snorts. "I'm not sure if what just happened could be constituted as 'talking'."

Henry shrugs, refusing to be put down about this. Emma's made the first step towards repairing the odd friendship that she'd started with Regina after returning to Storybrooke, and that's what he's been hoping for from her. He doesn't expect Regina to really be receptive of it for a while, but he can hope that she'll eventually warm up to the idea of reconciling with Emma. For the moment, however, he puts a lunch down in front of his mom.

"From Grandma and Grandpa," he explains.

For a brief moment Regina just stares at it. Then she slowly takes the bag and says, "Tell them I said thank you."

"Also, I think Grandma's coming over with the baby in a little while. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I thought you might want to know beforehand."

"She can bring Neal over if she wants. I won't mind."

"Good." Henry grins, glad that she's letting people back into her life, bit by bit. He knows that she would never deny a child, anyway.

He's about to settle back into one of the more comfortable chairs that Regina keeps in her office for visitors when she speaks again— this time more uncertainly, with hesitation in her voice.

"I… I've decided on New York after all," she tells him, fidgeting with a stray pencil on her desk.

Henry isn't really sure how she wants him to respond. New York isn't very far away; he can go visit her in person sometimes, when he misses her. He's happy that she's deciding to get away from Storybrooke for now— not because she wants to hide, but because no matter how convincing her Madame Mayor façade is, she's still very confused inside and is unsure of where to go from here. She needs to find her own way— something she's never really been allowed to do before.

So all he does is smile and nod.


	5. Part V: Emma

**Author's note: **Okay, this time it's for real, guys!

Sorry about the false alarm. For those of you who didn't catch my note before I deleted it, here's what happened: my computer crashed in the middle of writing this chapter, and at first I assumed that the document was autosaved. However, when I opened it again, all of the progress that I made was gone. I was really frustrated and discouraged, so I posted a note here saying that there might be a delay because of it. However, I managed to recover it a few hours later and I deleted the note - hence the confusion from some of you. Again, sorry about that!

This is the real deal. It's actually the longest part yet, and is pretty heavy on platonic Swan Queen (I adore their relationship, okay?). There's also a little bit of Captain Swan in this, but nothing major.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Part V: Emma**

Emma's world has become one filled with 'what ifs'.

There are too many to even go through coherently in her mind, but they flash through whenever her thoughts disobey her and they turn to Regina. She's gotten good at pushing unwanted visitors to her brain out, but lately she can't seem to avoid them. Even now, when she should be distracted by trying to quiet baby Neal while her mom looks ready to curl into the fetal position herself, she's wondering about how Regina dealt with Henry, and the cycle begins anew.

_What was the right thing to do?_

It had seemed so clear at the time. Marian was innocent, and about to be executed the next day. She was selfless and a good person, so of course Emma helped her. It was what she did, wasn't it? Helping people. No more looking out for herself. She's going to reach out to others now.

Except then Regina's face fills her vision. She hears the betrayal in her voice as she says (asks), "You did this?" She remembers the heartbreak that flashed briefly in her eyes before Regina was forced to steady herself with a nearby chair. A few moments later Henry was there, leading his adoptive mother out of Granny's by the arm. And while Emma won't be forgetting Regina's face anytime soon, she definitely will never forget Henry's.

(But then Marian would have died. No one deserves that.)

She makes her escape from Mary Margaret's apartment to the one she just recently rented, momentarily grateful for forgetting to tell Hook the address. She sinks down against the wall once she's locked the door, staring blankly at the one or two cardboard boxes that sit haphazardly in the middle of the floor (the rest of her and Henry's stuff has yet to arrive). Henry is going to be at Regina's for who knows how long. Until he's ready to talk to her again, at the very least. She hasn't been very smart about being his mother lately, and she knows that she needs to earn her time with him back.

Standing is easier than it seemed from her position on the floor, and she finds herself in front of the fridge that's just been installed, pulling out the bottle of vodka that she'd been planning to share with Hook. Looking at it now, though, she's regretting that decision; as her guilt has piled up in the last few days, she's been less and less receptive to his company. He's been pretending not to notice— making excuses to find something to do while she's distant. It hurts, a bit, but she can't bring herself to be open with him about this.

She ends up pouring herself a glass anyway, then stares at it for a good half an hour before finally taking a sip. It occurs to Emma that she needs to talk to Regina, but her muscles seem to freeze up every time she considers doing so.

Emma only has the one glass, so the alcohol doesn't fuzz up her brain that much. She does, however, find herself mulling over her relationship with Regina more recently. Working _with_ Regina to find the Witch, with next to no animosity between them (they were almost friendly, for god's sake) had been refreshing. There was also the fact that, although Regina was a relentless teacher, she genuinely enjoyed their lessons together, and she had a feeling that the reformed queen did as well.

She drags herself to bed at three in the morning, having managed to distract herself with a crime novel for a few hours before exhaustion prevailed over her anxiety. When she finally does sleep, it's with the faces of the people she considered family plaguing her dreams— though it's Regina's voice that she hears through it all.

* * *

"Thanks for the fries," Emma says, feeling awkward. She doesn't want this. Just when she was starting to really feel comfortable around him, she goes and closes in on herself, effectively slamming the door in his face after pushing him out. Hook doesn't look angry though, or frustrated, or even exasperated.

"Regina is the other mother of your son," he reasons. "You've never wanted to upset her. It's understandable."

"Upset her? Understatement of the century." Emma laughs. "I broke her _heart_, Killian. Not a day after she performed light magic. That, on top of losing her sister that morning? It was worse than her face when she was saying goodbye to Henry when Pan's curse was coming. And… I just… I _did_ that. Like my mother."

"And yet Regina and your mother appear to be getting along just fine," Hook says. "Mind you that took years of failed murder attempts and a dark curse that lasted for three decades, followed by _more_ murder attempts—"

Emma glares. "Not helping."

"Sorry." He winces, realizing that he might've been going a bit far. "My point is, love, that she needs time. She knows that you didn't mean to hurt her. She'll come around."

"I'm not worried about that." Emma would like Regina's forgiveness, but she knows that she might not deserve it. "I know her, Killian. She's going to cut herself off from the whole world— from everyone except Henry. If it was up to her, she'd never see me again, let alone speak to me."

Killian frowns. "So… what? Are you going to ambush her with a batch of cookies and a poem stating your apology?"

Emma snorts at that, unable to help smirking a bit.

"God, no. But I am gonna have to talk to her. At least, that's what Henry says."

Hook smiles at her— one of the few real smiles that she's seen from him. "I'm glad to hear that you and the lad have reconciled."

"We weren't fighting, really, just… we didn't talk to each other for a while. He was busy looking after Regina and I was, well, sulking." She pauses, debating internally for a moment. "I've got an almost-full bottle of vodka in the fridge, if you wanted to come over and share it tonight."

"I'd be delighted." Hook leans back against her dad's desk. "I haven't had the opportunity to try vodka yet. Will the lad be there? I recently watched that movie called Star Wars, and I have a few questions for him."

Emma laughs, and this time it's genuine. She realizes what he's doing; he knows that she hasn't been at her best lately, and he doesn't want to put her in a environment that might leave her feeling anxious. "Yeah, he'll be there."

"Then I look forward to it all the more."

Emma hums, knowing that she and Hook will have a more serious conversation later on. They will talk about whether or not she'll be comfortable in being with him while things with Regina remain unresolved. They will discuss her fears on the subject, or the fact that she feels like she's lost something even though on the surface she and Regina appeared to be merely acquaintances. They will discuss the fact that she still closes herself off from people, and how she can work on letting others in.

For now, though, she'd rather keep the conversation light, and Emma has never been more grateful to Killian for understanding that.

* * *

She almost runs the woman over because, once again, she isn't paying attention.

Emma slams on the brakes, shock overtaken by a frenzied sort of praying as her conversation with Henry flashes before her eyes. She watches as her car stops a few feet short of Regina, who stands there looking completely impassive. There's no anger in her expression as she stares at the vehicle that might have ended her life, had Emma been driving a little faster or hadn't seen her.

The she raises her gaze to meet Emma's, and something else twists there.

Emma knows that her own terror and shock must be plain on her face. Her heart feels like it's trying to jump out of her chest, and there's a stream of curses issuing through her mouth. Clamping down on her urge to continue swearing, Emma closes her mouth and presses it into a thin line, mouthing an apology at Regina and waiting for the storm to unleash itself.

It never does.

Instead Regina turns and lets her gaze slide away from Emma, as though she hadn't seen her at all. She continues crossing the street and Emma can almost hear those heels clacking on the pavement with a sort of finality that she doesn't want to think about. Like Regina doesn't care that her life was in danger. Like she didn't even see that Emma was the one driving the car (even though she must have; Emma recognized the twist in her eyes), or that Emma apologized.

Even with her talk with Henry, Emma's been reluctant to speak to Regina. She makes faltering steps towards her house, her office, or whenever she sees her in the street, but she never follows through. Now, though, all she can feel is shame that she never tried to speak to her before _almost running her over._

Not caring who might be on the road behind her, she jumps out of the car and runs after her.

"Regina, wait!"

Predictably, Regina doesn't wait. If anything, her pace increases.

"Regina—"

But before she can even say anything else, Regina brings her hands up in a gesture that Emma recognizes too late and vanishes in a cloud of purple smoke. Emma slows to a stop, staring at the place where the mayor vanished and cursing that they never got far enough in her lessons for her to master teleportation. Growling quietly, she marches back to her car, almost certain of where Regina has run to.

She pulls up outside of town hall, barely remembering to put the parking brake on before slamming the door shut. Emma doesn't really see anything as she whirls through the building, too focused on getting to Regina. She can't let herself stop and think about this, or else the result will be the same as every other time that she's tried. She can't let herself slow down until she reaches the office door, barreling inside without even knocking.

Regina's head snaps up, and for a moment she looks surprised. It's quickly wiped away, though, and she returns to her paperwork, cool and composed.

"Can I help you, Miss Swan?"

"Are you okay?" Emma blurts out. When Regina once again looks up, wearing that one look that says, 'Are you a moron?', she adds, "I mean, the thing with my car. Sorry about that, by the way. I didn't even notice I was at an intersection. Should've been watching out for pedestrians."

"I don't recall your car actually making an impact, Miss Swan. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

_Liar_, Emma wants to scream, but she figures that now is not the time for that. "Right," she says lamely. "Of course you are. Um… we really need to talk."

"I'm busy."

And it's absurd that Emma's getting upset about this, but it's almost like Regina's not really _here. _It's like she's speaking with a robot that's only programmed to speak certain phrases, and it frustrates her to no end. So of course, the next thing she says— like a _moron_— is, "Busy with what? Trying to distract yourself from the pain?"

For a moment, it seems to Emma that the air gets visibly colder. Regina's been reading over some papers and scribbling notes in the margins, but her pace of writing slows at Emma's words, and her hand clenches around her pen so tightly that Emma's almost sure it will snap in half. Instead, Regina puts it down, each movement slow and measured and stands so that she can walk in front of her desk.

"Is there something you'd like to say, dear?" she asks quietly.

"Look, Regina—"

"I'll take that as a yes." Regina holds up a hand, and Emma doesn't think she's ever seen her eyes so cold. "I never said that I would hear it. I won't. Don't delude yourself into thinking I ever will. Here are the facts, Miss Swan: you saved a life. You brought someone back from over thirty years into the past, in world that makes no sense for her. You saved her from _my_ chopping block. You've given a mother back to her child. Now let's think about what else you have done: you've played god. You've altered the past. You're making that mother realize that she missed four years of her child's life. You. Didn't. _Think."_

Emma is speechless. She can't think of anything to say. Her mind, so full of words about how contrite she is about the situation only moments ago, is drawing a blank.

"And it didn't affect _you_ personally— this time," adds Regina. "But what about next time? What happens when your rash decisions get someone you love killed? What happens when you don't think and the consequence are the bodies of your parents? Hook's body? Your brother's?"

_Henry,_ they're both thinking, and for the first time Emma sees an emotion in Regina's eyes: fear.

She recognizes it because she's feeling it too.

* * *

"She sure knows how to turn words into thorns," Emma murmurs.

Baby Neal doesn't answer her, gurgling instead as he regards her curiously.

"Yeah, I know kiddo." Emma leans her head on her palm, staring into his bright eyes. "But I don't know how to make her see that. I know what she was doing: she was trying to scare me into staying away from her so that I wouldn't bother her again. Thing is, how am I even supposed to try and reach her again? Straight up talking didn't work. I can't exactly send a note with flowers, either."

They're in Neal's room, just the two of them. David and Mary Margaret are taking a well-deserved break in order to go have dinner together, and Henry has gone back to Regina's, which leaves Emma to take care of Neal for the night. Hook had been planning to join her, but he was called away for some reason or another. Emma's fuzzy on the details.

"Well, we know that she can be a crazy psychotic bitch when she wants to be," Emma says. "But that was ages ago. She didn't look crazy or psychotic, just tired. And don't give me that look; you're not old enough to understand what I'm saying."

Neal responds by shoving a handful of Emma's hair into his mouth.

"Really, kiddo?" Wincing, Emma carefully extracts her hair, staring for a moment at the soggy clump before picking up Neal and bringing him into Mary Margaret's room so that she can watch him while she puts her hair into a ponytail. "Besides, Regina's the master of lashing out at people. How has our mom managed to stay in touch? Repeatedly throwing peace offerings at Regina until she accepts?"

She picks up Neal again and begins to sway gently while holding him, humming an old favorite song of hers while she does so. It still sometimes hits her at the oddest moments: that she has a baby brother now, and that she'll get to watch him grow up and be his big sister. Being an orphan, she's never really considered siblings. She's always focused more on wishing for the perfect parents. But now, she has to admit that she's excited. Terrified, but excited.

Emma's never had a family until she stumbled on Storybrooke. She has one now.

(She's never really had any friends, either. Then she sort of did, and she lost her.)

"She's gonna laugh in my face," Emma tells Neal, smiling when he gurgles in response again. "But you know what? I don't care."

* * *

It's something that Emma has to recruit Henry for, because there aren't many opportunities in Regina's schedule for Emma to corner her. Her son obliges, though he warns her to be careful ("Please don't hurt her. And don't let her hurt you.") before he tells her what she needs to know. Which is how Emma finds herself sitting on Regina's back porch at around eight in the morning on a Saturday, on a surprisingly warm and sunny day. Regina's tree has really made a comeback since Storybrooke's return, she notices.

The sound of the door opening behind her makes Emma turn her head in time to see Regina staring at her as though she's a raccoon going through the garbage.

"…you're trespassing," she says flatly.

"I got Henry's permission, actually," answers Emma.

"I don't see how that—"

"You were wrong."

Regina's eyes narrow. "Come again?"

"You were wrong. About what you said the other day." Emma closes her eyes and steels herself for what she's about to say. "When you said that the consequences of my actions didn't affect me personally this time… you were wrong. They did."

The other woman continues to stare.

"See, I had this… friend, sort of," Emma starts, ignoring the voice in her head that says _this is stupid, she'll never take you seriously_. "I mean, we weren't really friends. But we had to learn to trust each other. We worked together to save someone we care about. A few weeks ago we actually genuinely liked each other. Like, working together wasn't so much of a chore, or an obligation. We weren't, you know, _besties_ or anything because that would've been weird as hell, but she trusted me. I trusted her, too. I still do.

"But I broke her trust." Emma looks Regina right in the eyes, doesn't hold anything back. "Actually, broke is kind of an understatement. 'Smashed it to pieces' is more like it. And because of that, I lost her too."

Emma waits for a moment to see if Regina will respond, but she's silent.

"It's selfish, and it's stupid of me," Emma admits. "Stupid to even think I deserve it. But I want to earn it back. I _want _to."

Regina doesn't say anything for a long time. Her face is impassive, as opposed to hostile the way it was the last time they spoke. Emma can't read anything at all behind those dark eyes, which is odd because she's always been exceptional at reading Regina (except nowadays; nowadays, she's been failing so hard at understanding Regina and she knows it's her fault). The other woman finally moves, stepping out of the door and shutting it behind her.

In a quiet voice, she says, "You can start by leaving. Now."

Emma hasn't expected it to be that easy, but she still feels disappointed. "Come have drinks with me sometime," she asks, on impulse. "Tuesday night, the Rabbit Hole? No offense, but you look like you could use it."

"I will consider your offer."

That's all she can ask for. "Right. Just text me and let me know. And, uh… thanks for listening. And, y'know, not laughing."

Regina raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, okay. Leaving now."

* * *

It's probably the most awkward round of drinks that Emma's ever had.

Regina shows up, but somehow she's one of those people who are comfortable with staving off any kind of conversation, no matter how much the other person fidgets. And Emma's definitely been fidgeting— fiddling with her phone every five seconds, or staring into her glass, or playing with her hair.

Regina orders two drinks before she announces that she's stopping. Emma orders a third, and then a fourth, which relaxes her enough to make her start talking. She doesn't really care about the babble that's flying out of her mouth like word vomit because Regina appears to be listening (even though she probably isn't). She eventually registers that the word that comes of her mouth every five seconds is 'sorry', and that it's that word that irritates Regina the most.

"Sorry," she says once she's realized that, then, "Damn it."

Regina sighs. "Miss Swan, what was the point of this?"

"Well, it was supposed to get you to talk to me," Emma answers. She's buzzed enough to be this honest, right? "Probably should've known it wouldn't work. Although I _know_ you're not okay, and that it feels like there's nothing that can completely bring you back from this."

Regina sneers. "What would you know about it?"

Emma just shakes her head. Sure, she's had her share of heartbreak (Neal leaving her to be arrested, for one), but to watch the people that she loved— her second chance— be ripped away from her in an instant? No, she can't claim to know what that's like. She _doesn't_ know what it's like, beyond the little that Henry's told her about his mom. Still, that doesn't mean that she has some idea of what Regina must be feeling, nor does it mean that she doesn't want to help.

"Regina?" she asks tentatively. "You… you know that Robin's probably not the same person that Marian knew, right? It was thirty years ago—"

"Thirty years ago I had his wife executed," Regina says, voice devoid of emotion.

"We don't know that."

"Don't we?" Regina looks at her, darkness swirling in her eyes; her entire posture changes, exuding something that Emma remembers seeing in the past in the Enchanted Forest. For a moment, she sees the old Regina again: the one she first met, who relished in causing others pain. "Let's face it, Miss Swan: she was in my dungeon. Had you not been there, she would most likely have not lived the next day. She would have suffered death at my hands. She would have been consumed by a fireball _I_ conjured; I would have enjoyed her screams."

"Stop it," Emma snaps.

Regina blinks, the look falling away to surprise, and for a moment Emma's just as shocked as she is. Maybe it's the alcohol making her braver. No one speaks to Regina like that, not even these days when she's not so much the Evil Queen as she is merely Regina. Knowing that she has the advantage, even if only for a moment, Emma presses on.

"You're doing that… that _thing_ that you do," she says. "Where you make yourself out to be a monster. I _know_ you, Regina. I know that that isn't you. Maybe it used to be— hell, I saw it, so yes, I'm acknowledging that you were once a terrible person. But our pasts don't define who we are now. It's time you saw that."

Emma's not sure what she's doing. She's imploring Regina to see the truth that they all see— that whatever front Regina puts up for people, it's not as strong as it once was. She's a person, just like the rest of them; she just doesn't know that she's free to _be_ one. Everyone from her mother to Rumple has tried to make Regina into something more (or less, as the case may be), and they've all ultimately failed.

"You don't know me," Regina claims at last.

"Oh yeah? When we first met, Regina, and I asked you if you loved Henry, you said yes." Emma leans forward in her seat, all but shoving aside her drink as she grabs one of Regina's hands. "_You weren't lying."_

Regina stands abruptly, almost knocking her chair over as she backs up.

"No, Miss Swan," she bites out. "No. Not even a friend, just— no. And friends with _you? _As if."

"Please," Emma whispers. She's not even sure what she's asking for anymore.

But she can do nothing. Nothing except for stare at her untouched drink as Regina flies out the door, slamming it behind her.

* * *

At the very least, the two of them are slightly warmer to one another the next few times they meet. Emma becomes the one who turns in city council reports instead of sending David in her stead, and their exchanges then are cordial, if a little too business-like for her tastes. Regina comes to the next Charming family dinner and even has a short conversation with Emma about possible uses for the budget, which makes Henry beam, so Emma counts it as a win.

She is nervous, however, about the big discussion that the two of them have coming up: their son.

Regina's agreed to meet her at the beach, bringing Henry along with them. They both decided that he should have some say in the agreement, and that Emma's been proven wrong about what's really best for him. She finds Regina and Henry standing together just inches from the waves lapping the shore, both talking in quiet voices.

"Morning," she calls.

Henry turns and grins, but he looks a bit nervous too. "Hey Mom."

Regina nods at her.

"How are you?" Emma asks her.

"Fine, thank you."

"Good. That's good."

She launches into the discussion, laying out her (fairly simple) plan: that Henry could alternate weekly between the two of them, staying with Regina for a week and then staying with Emma for a week. Regina voices concerns about how the two of them will handle holidays or important dates like birthdays or graduations.

"I seriously don't think that'll be a problem," Emma says. "I mean, any mass family celebration will include the both of us, so that's kind of a moot point." She snorts at Regina's raised eyebrow. "Don't look so surprised; do you think we wouldn't invite you to Christmas dinner? Mary Margaret would murder someone if you weren't there."

The barest of smiles appears on Regina's face. "I suppose."

The three of them continue their discussion as they slowly make their way back into town, each of Henry's moms on either side of him. Eventually the discussion wanes away from the more serious aspect, and Henry's describing her new apartment to Regina, with Emma herself adding in a few pointers.

"It won't be as crowded, since Grandma and Grandpa won't be around, either," Henry adds.

"Yeah," Emma says, wincing as a memory appears in her mind. "And no… tacos, either."

Over Henry's head, Regina gives her a questioning look, to which Emma mouths, _Sex._

For one moment, she swears that Regina's about to laugh.

* * *

Emma's about to walk through the kitchen door in Regina's house when she hears voices. Specifically, that of her son and Regina herself.

"So you've changed your mind?"

"Yes." Regina lets out a heavy sigh. "Miss Swan was very reasonable in her ideas about our living arrangements."

There's a short pause before Henry speaks again.

"Does… this have something to do with him coming to talk to you the other day?"

"It might." Regina's tone changes. "Things are far from resolved right now, Henry. In fact, things are as shaky between us as they've ever been. But… but when I was talking to him, it didn't hurt as much as it should have. For what it's worth… we might be able to work something out."

"That's good."

Emma doesn't listen anymore, barging into the kitchen as though she hasn't been eavesdropping. Henry is oblivious, hurrying to her and asking her about dinner, but Regina catches her eye and gives her a slow nod.

_I let you hear that._

And Emma has rarely been more grateful.


	6. Part VI: Robin

**A/N:** Hello, hello! I suspect that this is the chapter that people have been waiting for. One more after this, and then the story will reach its conclusion!

Sorry about the long wait. The problem is that the Legend of Korra Book Three trailer came out, and it had me good and distracted for, like, four days. Because it looks amazing. And awesome. (Unintentional shout-out to LoK fans.) Anybody else excited for the evil waterbender chick voiced by Grey DeLisle?

Wow, that was off topic. Anyway, here's part six! Please keep hands and feet inside the car at all times.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Part VI: Robin**

Robin lies awake that night. At his side, he's aware of Marian doing the same, though both of them are pretending to be asleep in order to spare the other. Roland had practically fainted from exhaustion due to all the excitement from earlier, so putting him to bed wasn't an issue. The woods are quiet, apart from the usual nighttime noises, so it's not that that's bothering them.

He suspects that Marian is still slightly disturbed by Storybrooke. Or maybe it isn't Storybrooke so much as it is the idea that it's thirty years in the future. Thirty years in which Robin mourned her and changed (even though it only felt like four), and thirty years in which she missed seeing all of the firsts in her son's life. He can practically hear her thoughts buzzing in her head.

For his part, his head is spinning.

It's bad enough that Regina left before he got the chance to even speak to her— to explain that Marian being here did not necessarily change his feelings for her, to ask her to wait because this situation is impossible and he would need her there to help him figure out what to do. It's bad enough that he missed the devastation she must have been feeling (though judging by the look on Mary Margaret's face, it wasn't good).

But then, only minutes later, Marian explained that Emma had rescued her. From Regina's own dungeon, no less.

Those words sent his mind spiraling into confusion. He's always been aware of Regina's past acts— of her cruelty and apparent bloodlust, especially towards anyone who was caught helping Snow White. But he has always felt a kind of disconnect between those times and the Regina he knows now. Sure, he and his men ran from her black knights many times, but to be fair, he was a thief and an outlaw. He's never borne witness to her malevolence, nor had any reason to resent her— until now.

Resent, however, isn't what he feels. There is the tiniest sense of betrayal, a lot of confusion, and a little bit of anger. For the most part, he doesn't know what to think. His rational mind tells him that he should be furious with Regina for having to do with his wife's death, but for the most part he can't bring himself to believe that she would be responsible. It's a reminder to him that, in a way, _she _wouldn't have been. That was the Evil Queen.

And even then, who knew? Marian's slated execution has been altered. Nothing is what it once was. Never mind would have— the fact of the matter is that Regina did not kill his wife.

He considers going to her tomorrow. Maybe attempting to explain, even though there is no way he can put what he's feeling into words. Regina would understand, wouldn't she? (He's trying not to think of the heartbreak she must be feeling, or the fact that she's only just opened herself up only to be crushed. Some foolish part of him clings to what they had— like it will ever be as easy for them to go back to their easy-going, trusting relationship.)

Oddly enough, it isn't Regina's face in his mind that deters him. It's Henry's.

Her son is no fool, and Robin doubts that he will let him anywhere near his mother at this point in time. No, it's probably best that he stay away for now (in spite of the fact that it might send the wrong message— that he's giving up on her, that he's choosing Marian). Besides, he needs tomorrow to help Marian adjust, though that's going to be difficult as well because he needs to explain his relationship to Regina and where he currently stands. It'll be another blow to his already-muddled wife, but he can't keep it hidden from her.

He thinks of Roland, huddled in another tent and oblivious to all that's wrong. He thinks of how, only hours earlier, his little boy was walking hand-in-hand with Regina after she bought him ice cream. He remembers thinking that she'd never looked quite as at peace as she did in the company of a child, and how he'd been unable to stop smiling while watching the two interact. Roland doesn't know Marian. He's heard plenty of stories about her, but that's just it— they're stories. Much like the fairy tales that they're all based off of in this world.

Robin can't let himself think of Regina. Because if he does, then the ache comes back and he thinks about how much he's going to miss her, like she's already gone. He's going to think of stolen kisses and heated glances, but most of all of the _trust_ between the two of them, and the deep understanding that they both had. By the gods, he misses it already.

_No. Not now._

So Robin doesn't let himself think about it. Instead, he shifts slightly where he lies, and tries to sleep.

It's no surprise that he fails.

* * *

"It never seemed like the right time," he tries.

It's a lie, and he knows it. Robin is not ashamed of the relationship that he (briefly) built with Regina. But lately, watching Marian be overjoyed at the chance to get to know her son and to be reunited with her family and friends, he hasn't been able to bring himself to tell her something that might cause her heartbreak. It's unfair, and she shouldn't have had to find out this way— from the boy who was the most important part of Regina's life, who stood up for his mother in front of the two of them and who had stared at him accusingly while he told Robin to stay out of his mother's way.

The truth is that he's been a coward. He, Robin Hood— the supposed hero— had been afraid to tell Marian the truth.

What was it he was afraid of? Her judgment? The surprise and disdain that he didn't want to see when she discovered that he had feelings for the woman who ordered her execution? He's not sure. Either way, what he knows now is that it was wrong not to tell her sooner.

"So… what the boy said," Marian muses. "You were in a relationship with the Queen?"

Robin's grateful that she's abided by Henry's unspoken wish: that Regina no longer be referred to as 'evil'.

"Yes, it's true," he admits. "Regina and I… connected, over some kinship between the two of us. We both understood what it was like to love a child with all of our hearts and souls. We both desired a second chance. I grieved for you for years, Marian, and letting go was the most painful thing I've ever had to do. Once I did, however, it was better. Not easier, but better."

Marian purses her lips into a thin line. She still looks beautiful, he notices, when she does that. He remembers that he used to laugh at that particular expression and kiss the frown off her lips, but that particular desire has faded after the stages of grief. She's noticed that he's been less affectionate towards her than he used to be; now she understands why.

"Everyone's been telling me that," she says finally. "How much she's changed, how different of a person she is. Emma was going to introduce me to her; she called her 'Regina'. You call her 'Regina', as does Snow White and her prince. That boy is her son, and he seems to love her fiercely."

Robin chuckles quietly. "That he does."

"I wish you'd told me sooner."

"I'm sorry."

It's all he can offer, for the moment. He can't give back the love that they once shared, no matter how he tries.

"I know you are," Marian sighs, grabbing his hand and squeezing. She smiles wanly at him, and it occurs to him that she looks as though she's aged several months in the past few days. There are the moments when she's around Roland that she comes to life, becoming absolutely radiant. The rest of the time, though, she just looks tired.

(If this is how she is feeling…he tries not to think about Regina. He saw her in the diner, only minutes ago. She hadn't made eye contact with him once, but he was able to see straight through the mask of threatening clothing and perfect makeup, piercing straight through to her still-raw heart, which he knows is probably beating more half-heartedly than ever at this point. It had transfixed him, because even then he thought that she was glorious, that nothing could quite equal her. That spell had quickly been shattered by Henry's glare, and along with it all of his confusion returned.)

"I'm not sure what to do," he admits.

"Then do nothing." Marian shrugs. "You cannot lie to me, Robin. Even now I know better. Certainly, we could _try_ to re-create what we once had, but at this point I have a feeling that it would be rather like trying to swim up-river, wouldn't it?"

"Would it?" Because that's the question he's been trying to avoid. He hasn't _been_ trying to re-create what he had with Marian, but maybe the only reason that they aren't re-connecting is _because_ of that lack of trying. If he did, would they eventually find their way back to the soul-consuming love they once felt?

It feels like a betrayal to Marian to _not_ try. It feels like a betrayal to Regina to try.

Marian is looking at him like she already knows the answer, and it makes him uneasy.

"I admit that I'm still struggling to see her as anything other than what she was," she says. "When she was at the diner today, all I could remember was being paraded around to different villages, mocked and made to be humiliated. But this place— Storybrooke— it isn't the Enchanted Forest. Things are different here, in this land where a woman can have her own life independent of a man. It would change anyone, I think."

He remembers meeting Regina for the first time in the Enchanted Forest— how she'd been all sharp words and stiff postures, a solid wall in spite of his attempts to breach it. Then he remembers meeting her in Storybrooke, and while yes, much of her abrasive nature remained, there was also a strange curiosity to her, like she was more intrigued by him than threatened. This place has made her different, he realizes. Maybe it's not just the presence of her son, but the differences in society itself. There's also the fact that not many in Storybrooke miss the Enchanted Forest all that much.

Robin hasn't seen much of this world outside of the small town, and he's had only a few encounters with the marvels of modern technology, but even he's fascinated by some of the concepts.

(That's not to say that this world doesn't have its flaws. One of the few times he's seen a television, and the news was full of fire and lined, haggard faces of people from some faraway land, suffering from the horrible cruelty of others. It makes him shudder when he thinks about it, but evil in this land hides behind innovation. Or at least, that's what Regina once said to him.)

"I'm thinking about getting a job," Marian says finally. "I still love you, you know. Those feelings haven't faded for me as they have for you. But I need something to occupy my time, aside from caring for Roland, and I'm hoping to test whatever skills I may put to use in Storybrooke. I'm going to speak to Snow – Mary Margaret – about that tomorrow."

Robin tells her that he'll support whatever decision she makes, and then on impulse leans forward to kiss her. Some part of him (the part that has missed her so dearly) is desperately searching for his old feelings, for the same burn that used to eat him alive when he was near her. There is nothing of the sort, however, apart from a kind of tender affection that he barely recognizes. Marian accepts it, briefly, before gently pushing him away, not bothering to hide the regret on her face.

"I realize that it's going to be a while before you can speak to the mayor about this," Marian continues. "She's going to need time. But don't wait too long, else she's going to believe that you no longer need her."

"And you?"

"I'll need time too," she admits. "Time to accept her as she really is, before I'm completely comfortable with Roland being around her. You understand?"

Robin nods.

They exit the diner together along with Roland, hands at their sides, talking quietly while their son runs ahead. Maybe they don't have the same relationship that they did before, but there is a certain peace to it that Robin doesn't mind.

It's a beginning, not an end.

* * *

The next few times that he sees Regina, she's normally either alone or in the company of her son. Every now and then he will see her with Snow or David, and he sees her walking down the street in the company of Emma and Henry once. He makes no attempt to approach her any of those times, although he can always tell whether or not she notices him. It's barely perceptible, but there's always a slight stiffness in her shoulders when she does. There are days when he doesn't give it a second thought, and then there are other days when he marvels at how well he's come to know her.

There's also a day when Roland waves to her as she passes. She doesn't speak, but she does give him a small smile in return.

He also happens to be waiting to walk Marian home one day, and spots her speaking with (and even shaking hands with) Regina, whose smile is not exactly friendly but not faked, either. Marian, on the other hand, is beaming in spite of the fact that she's clearly nervous, and she runs straight to Robin to throw her arms around him.

"Regina secured me a job at the library!" she exclaims once she's pulled back. "Apparently they've been short on staff for some time now, ever since Belle started helping out in Rumpelstiltskin's shop. That _is_ strange to say, isn't it? 'Rumpelstiltskin's shop'. But since I'm able to read and I'm eager to learn about this world, she suggested that it would be the perfect place for me."

He grins back at her, truly happy for her. In the distance, over her shoulder, he sees Regina turn away from their embrace, though not quite before he sees her expression crumple and his heart breaks. Part of him wants to run after her _now_, and set things right _now_, but just yesterday Henry had given him another warning look, and he'll abide by the boy's wishes.

"You seem a bit more at ease around the mayor now," he says.

Marian's smile fades a bit. "She's… not so full of hatred, the way she was. Now she seems… well, there isn't really a word to describe her. She has an odd sense of humor as well. But she's nothing to be afraid of. It's forgiving her that I still struggle with."

It's understandable. Still, it appears that first steps have been taken between Regina and Marian, and it's more than he could've hoped for.

* * *

When Robin knocks on the door, it's her son who answers.

"Hi," he says, voice blank.

"May I speak with your mother?"

He's saying more than that, of course. _I know that you've asked me to stay away from her. I know that I've let her down, in more ways than one. But I believe that now's the time. I believe we need to start making our way back towards one another, if she will allow it._

When Henry finally nods, it's his way of saying _I believe that too._

"Mom!" he calls. "It's Robin."

Robin winces slightly at the unceremonious announcement, but he figures that it's no less than what he deserves. The clacking of heels precedes Regina herself as she strides out of the living room, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. Henry looks between the two of them for a moment before silently heading up the stairs, probably to his room in order to give them some privacy.

The two stand there for a long time, in silence. For Robin's part, he's drinking the sight of her in. He's been catching glimpses of her for the past few weeks, but he's never really allowed himself to _look_ until now. For Regina's part, she seems to be doing the same, but he can also see weariness there.

Their appraisal of one another is interrupted when Regina finally asks, "Are you coming in, or do you prefer to stand on the porch all evening?"

Her question startles him, but he slowly steps inside the somewhat familiar home, pushing down the longing he feels as she moves past him in order to shut it. Without a word, she leads him into her dining room (purposely avoiding the sitting room, he notices, not that he can blame her for it), and sitting in one of the chairs at the table. She gestures for him to sit across from her.

"Clearly you came here to talk," she says. "So talk."

"I was rather hoping you would talk to me."

"I have no reason to."

"Regina, please." He can hear the desperation in his voice. "If nothing else, don't pretend that none of it happened. If you will only do that… please."

She stares at him hard, her dark eyes glinting with that same fire that he always sees. Back in the Enchanted Forest, it used to burn him whenever she turned her bitter words against him, and he can see her preparing to do the same here. Whatever will keep him away from her. Whatever will keep him from getting inside her head again. But something makes her deflate slightly where she sits, and the fire goes out.

"Alright, Robin," she says. "Then… what? What do you want me to say?"

He doesn't know that either. He opens his mouth and then closes it several times, and he can see Regina losing interest in front of him. Her gaze has wandered off to a spot over his shoulder, her eyes becoming unfocused. Before… well, before, he would usually reach for her asking her what was wrong because that look means deep (and not necessarily pleasant) thoughts. Now, though, he knows he has no right, as much as he wants to.

As it turns out, he's the one to speak after all.

"I made a mistake," he explains. Her head snaps back toward him. "That night, I should have come to you straight away. I should have explained that my feelings, while muddled, were not changed. We should have worked things out together, and it's my fault for making you think…"

He watches her eyes widen.

"You and I," he continues, "we know each other. Marian is a dear, dear friend and I love her, but she's no fool. She's aware of our relationship."

"Our relationship that is over now," Regina says civilly. "Like it or not I killed her, Robin. Being the one responsible for the death of your wife is considered enough grounds for whatever we had to practically be destroyed, wouldn't you say? Even if I had no personal vendetta against you, that doesn't change the fact that I was responsible."

"Except you weren't," he counters. "You didn't kill her, and we could waste the whole night with 'would haves' and 'ifs', but I'd rather not. I've always known who you were, Regina. It's who you _are_ that concerns me."

"Who I am?" Regina smiles nastily. "'You can pretend all you want, but we know how you are. And who you will always be'. Words from the Savior herself."

Robin swallows down his anger. "And would she say that now, since she's seen you use light magic? Magic that you all told me was born from love. _Who you are_, Regina, is a mother who loves her son so deeply that she would give anything for him. You're a woman who is trying to make things right with another woman that you've spent years hating. You're a woman who has defended Storybrooke and asked for nothing in return several times. As I said, I know you."

And now Regina's looking at him, similarly to the way she did by the fireplace weeks ago— in disbelief, like she can't quite believe that someone would ever think of her that way. She's no longer making an effort to hide the pain; it's raw and visceral in her eyes, and it hurts for him to look at it, but he figures that this is his punishment for not making things right when he should have.

He stands. "I'll trouble you no longer tonight. Any decision made is yours and yours alone, Regina. Whatever it may be, I will be there."

The 'for you' goes unspoken, but he knows that she hears it. After a long moment, she nods at him, her expression shaken but determined. She walks him to the door and exchanges a quiet good night with him, but before he steps out the door he gives into a selfish impulse and embraces her, closing his eyes at the warm weight of her against him. Eventually he feels her arms come up around him, gripping the back of his jacket harder than he would have expected.

"I miss you," he whispers to her, and places a lingering kiss against her cheek. Then he leaves.

* * *

"No, no!" Marian huffs, glaring at Little John. "The whole point of the story was that they were happy in the end, in spite of all the hardships. Jane was a fascinating character who made the most of her situation and was stronger for it."

"So you've read… how many books now?" John asks. "Five? Do they actually make you work at that place?"

Marian folds her arms. "Not nearly enough people in this town come to the library. It's a shame, really. I'm thinking of starting up some programs in order to get people more involved— like a summer reading challenge for the kids. Maybe even something for the adults around here. Really, we get maybe three or four patrons in one day. I'm also ashamed."

Friar Tuck speaks up then, showing interest in her ideas, and Marian launches into another tangent about how she could organize some kind of event. It makes Robin smile to see it, because he's glad that she's found something she's so passionate about. She loves nothing more than bringing home a book to read to Roland, and has brought more than a few for herself. She's devouring the literature of this world at a mile a minute and clearly enjoying it immensely.

She's also managed to watch the children's adaptation of his own story, and now teases him relentlessly for it.

"A fox?" she'd laughed when she first saw it.

He'd pouted. "Need I remind you that you were a fox as well?"

"Yes, but it was _your_ story."

He watches as Roland clambers up onto her lap, giggling when she tickles him. He looks up a moment later, though, and waves one tiny hand at someone behind Robin.

"Hi 'Gina!" his son calls.

Robin turns, mildly surprised to see her. If he's being honest, he expected to be the one to seek her out instead of the other way around. Right now she's not looking at him; her eyes are all for Roland, and there's a tender smile on her face as she greets him. He glances at Marian, but she doesn't seem all that bothered by Regina's presence around their son.

"Madame Mayor, what do you think of having some reading programs? Getting the town more involved?"

Regina blinks, looking at her in surprise. "I… think it's an excellent idea. Have you spoken to Belle about it? I think she'd love to help."

Marian shakes her head. "I didn't think of that." And now her eyes are darting back and forth between Regina and Robin, as though she's assessing them. He fidgets slightly, pulling at his shirtsleeve again as has become habit for him more recently. Roland is oblivious to the sudden tension, flopping back against his mother and making faces over at Little John.

Regina turns to Robin. "Can I talk to you?"

He exchanges a quick glance with Marian, who nods imperceptibly, and stands. "Of course."

Regina looks anxious for a moment, but she erases that from her face quickly and leads him away from the encampment. He catches up to her so that they can walk side by side, and he lets his shoulder brush hers slightly but does nothing more than that. He breathes a sigh of relief a moment later, when her hand tangles itself in his.

They walk in silence for a long time, soaking in the feeling of just being around one another. It's another reminder of what he said to her when they last parted: he has missed her, like there's an ache in his bones that only settles when she is near him. This woman had crashed into his life so suddenly, awakening hopes within him that he believed long dead, making him a believer once again. She's challenged him, confided in him, trusted him— maybe even…

They end up in the same spot where they discussed Regina's letter and came up with the plan to fight Zelena. They sit on the log wordlessly, still clutching each other's hand. He hears her take a shuddering breath and waits patiently, looking over at her to see her staring straight ahead of her.

"I was going to leave," she announces abruptly. "I was going to go away, give myself time to recover."

He nods, taking it in. He wouldn't have blamed her for doing so. "What changed your mind?"

"Henry. Emma, surprisingly." She pauses. "And you. You have to understand, Robin— I'm… not sure how well I would recover from losing you again. But I wanted to thank you for being honest with me the other day. It helped me decide that maybe I didn't need to leave to… find myself, or whatever you call it."

"I'm glad," he says. He looks at their hands, realizing that he's been stroking his thumb over her skin for some time now, and he hasn't even noticed. "If I may ask… I spoke with David some time ago, and he told me to ask about something Dr. Whale once did. I don't expect you to tell me—"

He stops because she stiffens almost imperceptibly.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I do not wish to pry."

"No, it's alright." Regina looks at him for the first time, a flicker of a smile appearing. "Dr. Whale was angry with me for bringing him as a part of the first Curse even though he wasn't from the Enchanted Forest. He decided that he most potent form of revenge would be to bring my dead fiancé back to life."

Her tone is blasé, but he can feel her shaking. "Daniel wasn't himself. He was in constant pain— he only managed to speak through it and become lucid after I told him that I loved him. Then I killed him. He begged for me to end it. He told me to love again."

Robin closes his eyes and feels like bashing himself over the head. She's been in the same situation as he has, only to have it all torn away from her only moments later. Of course she would assume that he would want to stay with Marian— another chance with a first love must seem all the more important to her because she lost it.

Her tone doesn't change, but he knows how much pain it's causing her to recall the memory and regrets asking about it at all. He's still hesitant to comfort her, as he's still unsure of where she stands in all this, but the least he can do is squeeze her hand. So he does.

"I'm so sorry."

She lets out a long breath.

"I took a risk last time," Regina says, clearly eager to get off the subject of Daniel. "I took a risk and I put my heart out there and it got burned. I should have expected it. That is my life."

"No," he insists, reaching up with his other hand to caress her cheek. She's unyielding for a moment, but then she closes her eyes and leans her head to the side. "It won't be, not anymore. Regina, if you take a chance now, you'll be giving me one. A third chance, as it were, and one that I clearly do not deserve."

He can't stop the hope that's welling up within him, foolish as it is. She hasn't shut him out, and that has to count for something.

"I don't love you." Regina opens her eyes and they're drowning him. "I don't love you now, but I could. I _could_, so easily, and it scares me. And if I do love you, it will be with everything that I am. I don't remember how to love very easily— not like this, anyway— but I know my own feelings. I don't do things by halves."

She takes their entwined hands and presses them to her chest, over the steady beat of her heart. "It'll be yours, Robin. Can I trust you with it?"

There is only one answer he can give. After all, his heart is already hers.


	7. Part VII: Regina

**A/N:** Here we are! The final chapter. Thank you guys so, so much for cheering me on and sticking with this story to the end. I've never had such an outpouring for one of my stories before. You've all been fantastic, and I love you guys for it.

So, without further ado, here's the final part of Support Pillar.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Part VII: Regina**

_"It's nice to have family in town."_

Who knew it would vanish so quickly?

* * *

Gods, she's only just lost her sister this morning.

Regina chokes down the sob that threatens to claw its way up her throat. She's curled up on her bed, only marginally aware of Henry standing in the doorway, staring at her worriedly. Right now, most of her concentration is going into not crying.

She can't cry over a relationship that wasn't even a week old. Over maybe days of happiness. Over a man that she was only just getting to know, even though it felt like longer than that (she doesn't count their interactions in the Enchanted Forest). It's pathetic. It's stupid. Why cry over this? She wasn't even in love.

_You could've been_, and for a moment she could swear that Henry spoke aloud. But he hasn't; he's left the doorway, thumping down the stairs. She remembers him saying that he was going to make her some hot chocolate and jolts herself, berating herself because what kind of mother is she, letting her son take care of her instead of the other way around? Regina tries to stand up, but it's like something has drained her of all her energy, leaving her with nothing except the desire to cry.

And she can't because it's ridiculous.

Henry returns a moment later with a steaming mug in his hands, gently passing it to her and coaxing her into a sitting position and seating himself next to her. They lean against one another for the time being, while she sips at her cocoa and he offers silent support. It almost hurts, the love that she feels for her son at the moment, but it's nearly overshadowed by her shame at being so weak.

She finds herself thinking of how Zelena would probably be laughing derisively at her right now, having gotten her revenge— just not in the way that she expected. It doesn't help at all, because she's also mourning the missed opportunity that she almost had with her sibling. Not that she was optimistic enough to believe that she and Zelena would have instantly bonded, but there were other aspects of her life at the time that allowed her to hope.

_Hope is for fools._

Better, she thinks, to stick with what she has. Henry is beside her. Her beautiful boy, who's starting to grow up, is being here for her, even though she knows that he doesn't have to be. She has him back after a year of torture without him, and that outshines everything else.

"Thank you," she murmurs, handing him her empty mug.

"You're welcome," Henry answers. "Are you gonna try to sleep now?"

Regina smiles at him. "I'll try. You should get some sleep too; it's late."

He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn't leave.

"Good night," he bids her, and leaves the room. He already knows that she's not going to bother getting ready for bed.

"Good night," she says. She lays back down and prepares to spend the next few hours of darkness staring at the wall.

* * *

It takes her a while to realize that it's all kind of… numb, really.

She spends a week in her house before she can't stand to stay in its sterile environment any longer. Regina eventually comes to see that what she's been feeling hasn't exactly been pain. More like shock, or maybe disbelief. That her chance at a happy ending was ripped from her once again in spite of her truly trying to be different from her old self. That part of her wants to rage against everything, to rip everyone apart with her magic and throw her head back in laughter. And she briefly lets that part out in the guest bedroom, feeling immense satisfaction when she tears into the walls, the bed, the table. The window shatters, and she doesn't even flinch.

Afterwards, though, there's just more emptiness, as well as the mess that she now has to explain to her son.

When she finally does leave, the air is pleasant in her lungs. She and Henry walk side by side, in a way that they haven't been able to do since before Emma came to Storybrooke (his 'tour' is another event that she doesn't count in her mind). He seems happy that she's finally getting outside once again, although he seems anxious as well.

The pleasant mood of the day is ruined by seeing Robin and his family in the diner. It doesn't help when Snow catches up with her, being so painfully earnest that it's impossible for Regina to snap at her. The kindness in the other woman's eyes nearly breaks Regina right there and then, along with the insistence that Regina is family. She has to escape then, because the feeling from before is scrabbling up her throat again—

The next thing she knows, she's leaning against Henry, muffled sobs going into his shoulder. _Pathetic,_ she thinks of herself, and _ridiculous_, but this is the first time that she's truly feeling the pain and oh god, it _hurts. _

It hurts to have to see Robin with his family, especially once she realized that it's a family she's ripped apart in the past. That family is a symbol of everything that she will never have— that which she hoped to have, with Daniel, but that was torn from her as well. So she doesn't stop the inhuman noises that come from her throat as she cries. Her surroundings are a haze, but she mentally clutches at Henry's warm hand on her back like it's a lifeline.

When the flood slows, she sits up and wipes away the tears. Henry watches her.

"I think you're going to be okay," he says.

"You think so?" Her voice is still raspy.

"Yeah, I do." He pulls her into a tight hug, one that Regina returns gratefully. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too."

But his words are a wake-up call: she isn't Henry's only family. He has Emma, and Mary Margaret, and David. He's been with her for a week now and hasn't made any attempts to contact them in all that time. Even though she isn't feeling very charitable towards Emma right now, she knows the pain of not seeing her son. He needs to spend some time with his birth mother, too.

For the moment, all she can do is close her eyes and try to swallow the pain.

* * *

The idea first hits her after another visit from Charming. He always makes sure to keep most conversation between them light, so she's not sure why she reached this conclusion after speaking with him. She slides her phone away from her, sick of staring blankly at her itinerary and instead deciding that maybe today she could go home early. Her decision made, she packs up the little she's brought with her.

Moving isn't a notion that she's ever entertained before. Her house had always been satisfying to her, and she's always liked Storybrooke— she finds it infinitely preferable to the Enchanted Forest. But suddenly it's not enough; she's only ever heard stories about all of the different places in the Land Without Magic. Maybe it's time she went and actually saw some of them.

She's seated in the living room with her laptop on the couch next to her, browsing websites and mumbling to herself. There are several destinations that appeal to her, but for the most part she can't really settle on any of them. It's probably the twinge of guilt that she already feels; just a little more than a week ago, she was berating Emma for wanting to take her son away to New York with her, and now she's thinking of running away herself. She's going to have to talk to him about it.

The doorbell rings, startling her out of her thoughts. When she answers it, the last person she was expecting is standing there.

"Hello, Regina," Marian says. "Can we talk?"

Regina stiffens, automatically wiping any emotions from her face. "Of course. Please, come in."

The other woman accepts her offer with a gracious nod, her mouth in a firm line. Regina shakes her head to herself, wondering what she could possibly want. Her guess is that Marian wants to discuss the finer details of the job suggestion that Regina had for her. That, or she's comes to ask about accommodations other than the forest for the Merry Men. There are many possibilities, but Marian chooses the most unexpected one.

"I met your son today," she announces.

Regina lifts a brow. "Henry." She thinks of her wonderful boy, who has been so amazing and warm and loving towards her these past few weeks, in a way that he hasn't in such a long time. "What of it?"

"I guess 'met' isn't really the right word." Marian chuckles ruefully. "The first time I asked him a question in the convenience store, and the other he defended you quite fiercely. I remember you from your days of dragging me around from village to village, savagely mocking me while I screamed myself hoarse for help. And I can barely reconcile that woman with the one who must have raised a boy to be so…"

It appears that Marian can't find the words. Oddly enough, Regina understands.

She hadn't recognized Marian on the spot at that moment, but after realizing just who she was, she's been able to conjure up faint images. She remembers empty laughter and a burlap sack, and the hoarse shouts that she always delighted in. She remembers that after a few days of it the woman had been stoic and stubborn, refusing to give in. She'd looked into the eyes of the Evil Queen without fear, and for that she'd gained a tiny amount of respect.

Then she escaped, and from that day onwards she faded from Regina's mind. Merely another of the countless victims from the throng of Snow White supporters.

"There are some things I would take back," she says at last. "That is one of them. But there are others I will not."

This time she is referring to the curse and her own foolish persistence in getting her revenge in Snow White. Because no matter how terrible or cruel any of those things were, she thinks of a world without Henry in it and believes that it would be much worse. For the moment, she can only be grateful that she failed in her quest; she's now part of a family that stubbornly refuses to let her go, and the tiniest bit of her is happy with them.

"Okay," Marian says, looking away. "I merely wanted to say that Henry has… somewhat helped me to understand the many long years between you and the Evil Queen. Sometimes, when I look at you, I'm even able to see it."

Marian looks back at her, and Regina is startled because she seems almost fascinated.

"I'm able to see Regina."

* * *

There were no remains to bury, but Regina has managed to construct something of a grave anyway.

It's just a small spot in her vault, with a single candle that she keeps lit and a simple engraving. She figures that no one else will want to visit the grave, so she doesn't have it put in a public place. It reminds her of the day she buried her mother, only then there had been an aching feeling of having her only family ripped away. This time, there is a stronger-than-expected sense of regret, but it's not quite the same pain as before.

Sometimes, when she's feeling especially foolish, she thinks about what might have been. She thinks about having Zelena in her house. Sure they'd stay away from each other at first… but later, who knew? She pictures them having quiet talks late at night, or bickering good-naturedly, or whatever sisters are meant to do. Not that she would know, thanks to her mother.

It is in those moments (she is an idiot) that she feels the hollow ache build up worse than before. She thinks that everything might hurt a little less if Zelena's suicide hadn't happened on the very same day. She can't find it in her to understand it; her sister hadn't exactly been open to a second chance, but neither had she completely scorned and turned it down. She'd seen her sister when Rumple tried to kill her, too. She's seen the fear in her eyes.

_Why, Zelena? I thought I understood you. I've been in your position, but I've never wanted to die._

(Well, now she knows that she's lying to herself. Because as much as she denies it, a sleeping curse is a bit like death, and she'd been completely willing to use one on herself. That's different, though, than admitting that you'll never have your vengeance. That's the pain of losing the only thing she loved. That's a monster in her chest, ripping her heart in half. Even this does not compare.)

There are days when she sheds tears for her mother's fate. This is not one of them.

Instead, she sinks to the floor, heedless of the dust covering the tiles. Her vault is dark and silent, something that she finds welcome in her current state of mind. Most of the light comes from the flickering of the candle over her sister's grave. She hugs her knees to her chest and swallows several times, ignoring her phone when it buzzes with a text message.

Regina doesn't know how long she stays like this. It could be forever, or it could just be fifteen minutes. When she finally emerges from her solitude, it's to find the sun in the midst of setting, a rare orange glow bathing the trees in the cemetery. A cool breeze flutters the leaves over her head, and the entire sight makes her momentarily entranced. There have never been many moments in her life where she stops to appreciate the beauty of the world, but this seems appropriate.

It only strengthens her resolve to go away, though. Because here, in Storybrooke, this illusion of peace will only be shattered the moment she encounters someone else again. In that instant, her guard will snap back into place and she will be peering through the cracks of it, too afraid to come out of that protective shell.

Regina didn't cry once in her silent vigil over Zelena, but she feels a tear slip out now.

* * *

Mary Margaret has somehow managed to loop her arm through hers, and though Regina rolls her eyes about a million times, she doesn't try to pull away. They've left Neal with David and Henry (and who knows how that will go, but she at least knows that Charming will die before letting any harm come to his son) because Mary Margaret has declared that a wardrobe change is needed for her and that she needs Regina for fashion advice.

They both know that this isn't true, but she lets herself get dragged along anyway. Emma had heard the word 'shopping' and practically bolted out of the door, shouting something about patrols before her footsteps were thundering on the stairs. She's still somewhat cold towards the Charmings' daughter, but she can't deny that she's been more open to her since the incident in the bar.

"So!" Mary Margaret exclaims brightly. "I… actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"And what's that?"

It doesn't escape Regina's notice that they have yet to approach a single clothes shop.

"Well… my husband and I have been having long conversations about this— like, hours-long, meaningful ones and this decision was not made lightly in any way. We talked to Emma, to Archie, even to Henry and they all agreed that it would be for the best."

Regina's starting to get suspicious. "What would be?"

Snow's smile is brilliant, and completely unaffected by Regina's skepticism. She swings around in front of Regina, forcing the both of them to stop walking, and takes Regina's hands in her own in a similar way to when she'd first spoken to Regina after the night at the diner.

"Regina," she says. "We would like you to be Neal's godmother."

The request sends her reeling. Just like that, she feels all of her defenses fall away at Mary Margaret's words, and her hands go limp in Snow's grasp. She manages to keep her jaw from hitting the ground, but even so she can't seem to form any coherent words right now. Why? What brought this on? What kind of a request is this? She feels like a decision on this should have been made long ago.

"We've actually been discussing this since we first found out I was pregnant," Mary Margaret admits. "When you defeated Zelena and saved him, you were definitely bumped up higher on the list. But what clinched it for me was seeing you hold him for the first time."

Regina can barely stand to look at her, with her eyes filled with that strange emotion. "I know that you would cherish and protect him with everything you have if Charming and I were somehow gone. I know that our baby could not be in safer hands. So I'm asking you, Regina. _We're _asking you."

"No."

The word is gasped out, like it is ripped from her throat without her consent, but inwardly she is panicking. No, no, no, this can't be happening— she's going to _leave_, she told Henry so, and he's given her his blessing to go. There's nothing else tying her to this town. She thinks of tiny baby Neal, probably giggling adorably while Henry or David play with him, and thinks about what this means: that Mary Margaret is trusting Regina with her son's life.

She can't.

She _can't._

Mary Margaret's face saddens. "Regina—"

Regina rips her hand away from Snow's. "I am not worth this," she all but snarls, ignoring the pleading look on Snow's face. "You may invite me over for dinners and pretend like I'm a part of your perfect little family when we both know that I'm nothing more than a black stain on it. I comply for Henry's sake, but I'm meant to be alone in this world. Don't pretend I have a place with you."

She turns to leave, keeping her head down and ignoring the curious (in some cases alarmed) looks, but Mary Margaret's voice stops her.

"You do," she insists, strong and clear, much like the way she is when she's being Snow White the queen. "You may not believe it yet, but you do. Just… please, take a few days to consider it."

Regina closes her eyes, tilts her face to the sky and thinks about how much she wants to scream. Screw all the people standing around them, whose attention would be drawn to the noise. Screw the terrified or mocking looks that would be sent her way— she feels like the walls are closing in on her, and she doesn't even know why. She hears the footsteps indicating that Mary Margaret is walking away from her, and it hits her then.

They want _her._

Not out of some sense of obligation, or pity. Not because of her penchant for throwing herself in harm's way for the people she cares about, either. They all look at her and they see a person, not some evil witch who destroyed their lives. They see… what? A cousin? A mother? A sibling?

_Zelena, why?_

A smaller hand slips into hers then, and she looks down and nearly sobs in relief at the sight of Henry there. He squeezes quickly before wrapping his arm around her, not quite fitting it around her waist. She turns into him and crouches him, embracing her son fully and using his presence to push down the growing discontent. He supports her decision to leave for New York, and that's all she needs right now.

"So she told you, huh?" he asks.

Regina sighs. "Yes, she did."

"You know…" Henry pats her back a bit, almost making her laugh. "You can still be his godmother long distance. It's actually pretty normal for most families. I had a friend in New York who has godparents in California."

Regina nods her head, unwilling to speak. She knows that she's overreacted slightly to Mary Margaret's request, but the sudden faith and trust in her had been almost blinding. Even now her mind is still racing with the implications. The other side of her is fighting to keep her turmoil over Zelena beneath the surface. What she feels over the loss of her sister is both more and less than grief, and it makes her feel ashamed.

"We should probably start looking at apartments," Henry says. "Or maybe I could ask Emma not to sell ours. It's pretty nice there."

Regina doesn't much feel like asking for anything of Emma's, but she smiles and nods anyway because she knows that Henry is trying to do what he can to help her.

"Speaking of New York," she says. "Do you think you'll miss it there?"

Henry shrugs. "A little. I did have a lot of friends at school. They were great. But this is home. And I think I can make some friends here, too. I still e-mail some of them sometimes, so I'm staying in touch. Don't worry," he adds, "I'm not telling any of them that all my relatives are actually fairy tale characters."

Regina remembers the mess with Greg and Tamara and winces. "I should hope not."

"I can… come visit you sometimes, right?"

Startled, Regina looks at him. She's shocked to see that, for a brief moment, Henry looks like a nervous little boy all over again, and realizes that he's been building up the courage to ask her this for a while now. A wave of sadness washes over her at that thought, and she takes his face in her hands, much the way she did before she used True Love's Kiss.

"I promised you I wouldn't let you go away again, didn't I?" she tells him softly. "Of course you can. Any time you'd like. I'd love it."

And she knows, by the grin that bursts forth on his face in response, that he will too.

* * *

She's not leaving.

She's not leaving, and in the rush of that decision, she calls Snow and lets her know of her acceptance of her place in Neal's life. Mary Margaret is overjoyed and begins to speak to her, but before she can get very far Regina hangs the phone up and lets a hand brush over her cheek. If she imagines hard enough, she thinks she can still feel a warmth there. She thinks she can still catch his scent.

Regina lets herself think for a moment, leaning against the wall. She never expected to have everything change with just one conversation, but change has happened.

It's as though a great weight has been lifted from her chest. It's one thing to be avoiding him for weeks— avoiding the inevitable pain of a confrontation between them, because surely that was what would have happened. It's another to finally have a confrontation, only to discover that he is the one that's been feeling guilty, and that he wishes to earn her forgiveness and that he wants the two of them to move forward together. It fills her with a warmth that she hasn't felt since Marian came back.

Her mind wanders to her last moment with him: the way he pulled her into him, suddenly clinging to her like a dying man. She remembers how much of a relief it was to briefly lean against him, and how much she's missed simply _being_ in his presence. She tries not to shiver at the memory, her hand once again lifting to her cheek.

Regina had been convinced that he despised her. That, or he simply wanted nothing to do with her now that Marian was back.

Today, she's learned that something close to the opposite is true. He wants to pick up where they left off. Or, if not that, at least mend the distance that has grown between them. Regina's half convinced that this is all some strange, too-good-to-be-true dream that she's having and that any minute now she'll wake up, but the painful pounding of her heart reminds her that it's all too real.

Hope is fluttering within her, like a bird with broken wings.

(Damn him. It's not like she can afford to _hope _again.)

* * *

Her sleep these days is dreamless. No nightmares of Daniel, or her parents. No horrifying images of Henry's too-still body after Pan took his heart; not even the nightmare she sometimes has of everyone she cares about turning on her has returned.

Well, that's not completely true. There is one that refuses to leave her alone, but thankfully she only has to deal with it about once a week.

Regina seems to be making her way back uphill again, these days. Her relationship with Emma is improving, bit by bit. Henry comes to stay with her every other week, as they had agreed. She's spending more and more time with the Charmings when her work allows for it, and throwing herself into actually being a good mayor proves to be surprisingly therapeutic.

She gives the green light for a town-wide reading program, organized by Marian and helped along by Belle. Henry states his intention to participate, along with many of the other children and even a large percentage of the adults. Regina can admit that Marian seems to be in her element at the library, guiding anyone who visits with a surprising amount of fervor and enthusiasm. She still gets a look on her face that Regina recognizes sometimes, but she is recovering.

Regina and Robin are tentatively dating at this point. Mostly casual outings, sometimes in the company of Roland or Henry or both, but there is the occasional, more intimate setting. Those dates are treated with care from the both of them, with restrained touches and searching glances. She waits three weeks before she invites him into her bed, this time with her being the one to take him into her arms once they make it inside.

That night she does have a nightmare, and he notices. He says nothing about it, though.

"Hey," Emma calls, plunking herself down across from her. "I got a text from Henry; he says he'll meet us here for lunch in ten minutes. Thanks for coming, by the way; I know I'm still… not really your favorite person."

"Please," Regina snorts, but it lacks her usual sharpness. "You'll never be my favorite person."

"Nope," Emma agrees. She gives a small smile. "Always be Henry, won't it?"

Regina, in spite of herself, smiles back.

"Had to arrest this guy who was drunk off his ass last night," sighs Emma. "He kept trying to follow Belle around. Thankfully, I got to him before Gold killed him. Although to be honest, it seemed like Belle was about ready to kill him herself if he didn't leave her alone. He can spend a few days in a cell eating prison food, and then maybe he'll think twice about hanging out at The Rabbit Hole too often."

Regina raises an eyebrow. "And you're telling me this because…?"

"I'm about five seconds away from turning him into a toad. Or trying to, and who knows what my half-assed attempt at shape-shifting is going to produce."

The mayor rolls her eyes. Truth be told, the guy sounds like a good-for-nothing, and she's never had much patience for those kinds of people before. Why Emma seems to think that she'll have a solution, she doesn't know. Henry arrives a few moments later, but the real surprise is when the bell to Granny's tinkles and two more people step inside.

"Mama, can we sit with 'Gina?"

The three women present exchange slightly uneasy glances. Regina imagines that this is going to get rather awkward, but hopefully Emma and Marian will have a friendly enough conversation that she'll be able to stay out of it. She gives Emma a tiny nod, smiling at Roland when he clambers up next to her. He grins at her before calling back to Marian insistently.

"Sit next to me, Mama!"

For some reason, Henry's watching her with a knowing smile. Regina sends him a silent question, to which his grin only grows wider.

Thankfully, most of the lunch really isn't that awkward at all. Roland babbles almost all the way through, something that has all three of them trying not to laugh, or smiling ridiculously. Regina notices the way Marian looks at Roland— like he's the greatest gift the universe could give her, like he's the center of her world, and her respect for the other woman is heightened even more. She can't seem to keep the smile off her face as Roland speaks, either.

That is, until he starts talking about the Wicked Witch.

"And she was mean and she tried to take Snow White's baby, but— but then 'Gina stopped her. 'Cause daddy says that 'Gina's a hero." And with those words, Roland turns his little face up to her, brown eyes sparkling. Regina swallows, something akin to panic or fear threatening to surface. Across from her, Henry frowns, and Emma eyes her warily.

Marian, however, simply looks impressed.

"Did she now?" she asks, looking over at Regina with a knowing glint in her eye.

Regina stands abruptly, mumbling about needing to use the restroom. The mention of Zelena— a topic that she's managed to avoid thinking about until now— has her spiraling out of control once again. Marian moves out of the booth to let her by slowly, the same look on Emma's face now appearing on hers. Regina ignores it and flees from them, moving right past the restroom to the back door, and vanishing out into the sunlight.

* * *

"Keeping company with the dead, I see."

Regina makes no move to acknowledge him. She leans against the doors of her vault and stares straight ahead. The moon is filtering through the tree branches above her, casting everything around her into an eerie light. Robin sits on the steps beside her; as always, he is patient with her, not forcing her to speak too much. She thinks about her sister, twenty feet beneath her with only a candle to honor her, and breathes out.

"They're worried about you, you know," he tells her. "Roland's afraid that he's upset you."

Regina's heart twinges at the thought of upsetting Roland. "It wasn't his fault."

"But something he said bothered you. Both Emma and Henry were of that opinion."

Regina doesn't know if she can tell him— doesn't know if he would care. If he would scoff at her fears, at her grief. She feels the chill from the air settling through her skin, reminding her that she shed her jacket after getting here. She's wearing her blue dress, and it's not exactly resilient against the cold.

"Something's been troubling you for some time now," Robin notes. "There was that nightmare you had—"

"Nightmares aren't—"

"You were calling for Zelena."

And with that, all of her bitter feelings come rushing forth.

"Yes," she spits, turning on him with venom on her tongue. "I was calling out for Zelena. I was watching her _die_— watching as she kept taking her own life, in various ways, and laughing at me while she did it. And I felt no triumph, watching her like that. I didn't feel like I'd _won._ Talking to her at the prison— giving her another chance— _that_ was winning. But this? What she did terrifies me."

Regina hates how his eyes search hers, nothing but tenderness there. "And if she can't come back from it, then what does that say about you?"

She throws her head back and laughs. It's deep, resounding, and empty; a part of her old self.

"It's selfish," she says. "It's horribly, horribly selfish. I wish I had a chance with my sister, but more than that she chose to give up. I've been there, Robin. I've _been_ there, and I don't understand it because I went on, even though I didn't have anyone to encourage me. She… she _did_, but—"

Regina chokes, flinching when she feels something wet hit the back of her hand.

He reaches for her, and though she accepts it, she doesn't sink into him at first. She stays rigid, refusing to acknowledge his comfort even as he begins rubbing her arms, attempting to warm her up.

"You know," he says quietly. "It's alright to be afraid, Regina."

"Not for me," she murmurs.

His mouth covers her unexpectedly, like he is trying to give her warmth and love and reassurance all at the same time. It's almost too much, but she allows herself to take it from him greedily. The mist from their breath mingles together when they part, unwilling to move too far from each other. Regina wonders if this is what it means to be soulmates— to be unable to do anything but give complete understanding to the other.

She doesn't have the nightmare again after that.

* * *

"So," Henry says casually. "Life is pretty good right now, isn't it?"

Regina smiles. "When your family isn't getting on my nerves, I'm inclined to agree."

"_Our_ family, Mom. Don't deny it."

She tucks him into her side, laughing. "Okay, fine. Our family. But don't tell them I said that. Especially not Mary Margaret; she'd never let me hear the end of it."

"Your secret's safe with me," Henry says.

There's a loud cheer from inside; the two of them look back at the party, where Neal has just begun to crawl, with Roland cheering him on and the adults clapping. There's a swell of something inside her that she doesn't expect.

"What's say we go inside and watch my godson crawl?" she suggests.

"Sounds good."

Henry hurries back in first, his voice joining the excited ones already jabbering away. Regina, however, takes a moment to look out over Storybrooke. It occurs to her, then, that for once she might— just might— actually be happy.

Regina smiles, then turns to join her family.


End file.
